The Order of Sparda
by Rebeldynasty
Summary: This originally was Clairavance's. See my profile and Chap. 1 for full details. Nero is abducted by an organisation claiming to be the "true" Order of Sparda, who requests his aid. When the Demon Realm takes control of Fortuna, it is his mission to find out what demonic forces are behind it, and infiltrate their ranks in order to spread dissention and chaos from within. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1: Abduction

**Welcome back, everyone! As promised, I am starting on my next writing project(s). Now, some of you may be familiar with this story; as you can see by the title, "The Order of Sparda" belongs to Clairavance. She is a spectacular writer; one whom I owe the inspiration of some of my own works to. In fact, there are a few writers in the DMC universe I owe a great deal of my muse to, but Clairavance is certainly high on that list. Unfortunately, for one reason or another, she lost steam for this particular work somewhere part way through the thirteenth chapter. Originally, we intended to collaborate, but when she asked me if I would like to continue it on my own, I told her I would be more than happy to.**

**If you haven't checked out her work before, I urge you to do so. I cannot stress enough how great her writing really is. Without further ado, I give you "The Order of Sparda". **

**Disclaimer: I do not own this story; it belongs to Clairavance. The characters herein belong to Capcom.**

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**Chapter 1: Level 1: Abduction**

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**Muse: DMC4 Soundtracks**

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The house was dark and quiet when he jerked awake.

Nero stared up at the ceiling for a groggy moment as the comforting fingers of sleep uncurled from his weary mind. He instinctively turned to look at the head resting on the pillow beside him. The moonlight cast through the window pane outlined her figure with silver rays. Kyrie was huddled close to him with her one hand on the pillow between them. The sight of her sleeping peacefully beside him helped to slightly ease the strange feeling he had in his gut. Nero turned onto his side tiredly and felt her breath wash warmly across his face. He blindly scouted the bed for her other hand – it was an effort because his arm felt unusually heavy - found it fisted against her chest, and gently entwined his fingers through hers.

He lay gazing upon her beauty for a second before he realized what it was that had ripped him from his sleep. Something was in the air. His blue eyes widened as he peered over Kyrie to the bedroom door. Was that smoke? No. Too thin and too white to be smoke, and he couldn't smell anything. Could it be mist then? Nero grunted as he pushed himself up in bed, his instinct urging him to grab a weapon. He wasn't sure what kind of demon this was, or whether it was a demon at all, but he wasn't taking any chances. He'd nearly lost Kyrie once. He'd be damned if he let anything bad come near her again.

He wanted to reach for his gun in his bedside drawer, and felt his mouth go dry when his arm wouldn't obey his command. What the hell was this?

"_Kyrie_," Nero tried to speak but his tongue was thick and numb, and the only sound that escaped his mouth was a forced breath.

Shadows appeared in the doorway and walked into the room, breathing heavily through white masks. It only hit him then that the strange mist was gas swirling fast and effectively through the air. Nero lifted his Devil Bringer, the only part of his body he could move at all, and tried to focus his strength into crushing the trespassers. His arm flashed a bright blue that faded almost instantly.

Nero felt his body go limp and he helplessly fell back into the pillows. Hands lifted his head and something black and airy was pulled over his face. He had to protect Kyrie. He thought of calling a warning to her.

Then his mind stalled and dipped into a world without sight or scent. His nerves were dulled but he could discern the sensation of being carried. There was no sound but the loud, even breathing of his captors. The motion suddenly stopped as he was put down, and a clear, male human voice spoke near him.

"Three down, one to go."

Nero's body finally gave up the fight and yielded to the induced stupor.

~...~


	2. Chapter 2: Believer

**Hello, one and all! Clairavance's story continues! In this chapter, Nero awakens, and meets his captors. What do they want with him? Read to find out!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the story; it belongs to Clairavance. Characters-aside from any OCs she created-belong to Capcom.**

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**Chapter 2: Level 2: Believer**

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The first thing he did when the darkness released its stealthy grip on him was to look for Kyrie. Nero sat up so fast it made his head spin, and it didn't stop spinning until he put a hand to his face. He blinked until the world past his fingers steadied and his eyes were able to focus. There was no sign of Kyrie anywhere.

He was in an oval room with crimson velvet drapes that hid the walls from view. The bed he found himself sitting on was adorned with fine Egyptian silk and situated on a slightly elevated platform in the middle of the room. An ornate table to his left housed a silver goblet and a matching bowl filled with apples and grapes.

And there was no Kyrie.

Nero got off the bed, and stumbled in uncoordinated fashion toward the drapes nearest to him. The effect of the gas had yet to wane from his body. He had no feeling in his one foot; he didn't fully acknowledge this until he stepped wrong and sent himself sprawling onto the softly carpeted floor.

He righted himself and drew the drapes apart, only to meet his own reflection. Nero stared at it for a second before moving to the next set of drapes, and the next, throwing each one open with building frustration. His own pale features maddeningly greeted him until he backed away from the mirrored walls and did another thorough scan of the room. No windows or doors. But there was air flow – a faint draft that he could feel cool against his shins. There had to be a door somewhere.

Nero crouched down, trying to spot where the space between the door and floor was. If he could just track where it was coming from… He crawled across the carpet to follow the direction of the draft until he could feel it clearly dancing around his arms. He looked up at the mirror before him and used the drapes to haul himself back to his feet. He pushed at the mirror, and when it didn't budge he reverted to a kick.

A sharp green flash emanated from the smooth surface and countered his kick with a violent force that sent Nero reeling back in surprise. He couldn't get out. He didn't accept this fact until the table lay in splintered pieces after he'd swung it repeatedly at the mirror. The magical blows themselves didn't physically harm him but the shockwaves it created drained him.

"Where are you?" Nero shouted, out of breath and angry. He glared at the walls, certain that he was being watched and studied from the other side like some lab rat. "Show yourself, you coward!"

There was no response, and for a long time all Nero could do was pace along the walls. He'd ram his Devil Bringer fist into his reflection's gut every now and then when his temper flared higher. What had they done to Kyrie? Where was she, and what did these people want? Images of the Savior flicked hauntingly through his mind and Nero struck out at the wall once more. Fuck, not again. He'd go crazy if this was another evil scheme by some deluded bastard out to become the next Sparda. He would kill every last accomplice with his bare hands.

Bloody visions of ripping another Sanctus's throat out were playing through Nero's head when someone suddenly spoke behind him. He spun around on his heel and stared.

A young girl dressed in a long white gown stood shyly a few feet away from him. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and she offered him a warm smile. "I hope your room satisfies you."

Nero's voice caught in his throat at the unexpected figure he was faced with, but he recovered quickly and took a threatening step toward her. "Where is Kyrie?"

The girl simply backed up and ignored his question. "We intended to give you the room with the power plugs because you'd need electricity to play your music. We used it as a temporary location for the other one because we were still preparing his resting chamber for him. But he woke up sooner than we expected, you see, and it made an ugly mess."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, and right now I don't give a shit," Nero snapped and grabbed the girl by the arm. "What have you done with Kyrie?"

The girl blinked at his devil hand wrapped around her skinny arm, and turned startled green eyes on him. "Kyrie? We've done nothing to her. We have no use for her. In fact, it is quite integral to our quest that no other humans come to know of this. It could jeopardize _everything_."

Nero dropped her arm in a quick surge of relief. "I'm here alone?"

"Well…not exactly. We have everyone that we need, except for Dante. He's turning out to be quite tricky to track down. But your Kyrie, we haven't touched her. You needn't worry about her."

"Dante?" Nero repeated, and scowled down at her angrily. "Who is this 'we', huh?"

"The Order of Sparda, of course."

"The Order is dead. It and everything it stood for died the same day I destroyed that dog ugly Savior."

"You misunderstand. The Order you refer to was of the new generation. Their purpose had become diluted and flawed throughout time with no righteous soul to enforce it. If Sparda had a grave, he'd have crawled out from it just to restore the balance."

Nero snorted at her and shook his head. "And your Order is any different?"

"Yes," the girl said, and her smile deepened to reveal little dimples in her cheeks. "The Order of Sparda is sacred. Only those who are loyal and trusted are members. Our lord may be gone for now, but we have all taken an oath before him and we will keep it 'til our death."

"So abducting people from their homes in the middle of the night is a generally accepted act in your holy little council?" Nero said, once again trailing along the walls. He ran his fingers across the smooth mirror. "You should tell your elders that they're spineless idiots to send a little girl to do the talking for them."

"We've hurt no one. We are within the boundaries of our sworn allegiance to our lord," the girl said with a heated edge in her young voice.

"How about you send the person running this circus in here to deal with me personally," Nero said scathingly to his pacing image. "Unless he's too scared I'll embarrass him in front of his flock of sheep by kicking his sorry ass."

"Nero," the girl said quietly.

"Get in here right now!" Nero raised his voice as he strolled back over to the child. He took her by the elbow and firmly steered her to perch on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going to let the girl go until you grow yourself a pair of balls and come face me one on one."

The girl took hold of his Devil Bringer and Nero jolted away from her reflexively. "Allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Ramy, the third daughter from the House of the Smithy and the first member of the Order of Sparda. I am, as you have put, one of the spineless idiots who run this circus."

Nero backed away from her in confusion. "You're just a kid."

"Ah," Ramy said pleasantly. "Today I am. I was not always deemed as an inadequate child. Not back in my day, anyway."

"So…you're the leader of this cult? I'd apologize for calling you an idiot, but you _did_ deserve it. What the hell are you and your little friends thinking?" Nero chided.

"Oh, we have no appointed leader, as such. Every member is equal and acknowledged for their unique skills. It prevents jealousy and rivalry between members, you see, and never mind the insult. Our lord had quite the colourful vocabulary on his off days, too."

"Then who is this lord you keep jabbering about?"

"Lord Sparda," Ramy said, giving him an incredulous look. "I assumed you'd easily make the connection."

"Sparda has been dead for a while, if you haven't heard," Nero said with a small smirk. "Look, it's been fun but I gotta get home. Just show me the way out of here and we can put this whole thing be–"

"Nero, you don't understand. I can't simply let you go."

"Yeah, why not?"

"We need you."

"For what?" Nero bit icily.

"Are you comfortable? If you need anything, anything at all, please do ask. We'll hear you," Ramy said, rising to her feet and skipping past him.

"How many of you are there?" Nero asked, turning to follow her toward where he'd suspected the door was.

"There's enough of us," Ramy replied playfully, and sent him a sidelong glance. "I wouldn't do it if I were you, Nero."

The mirrored door slid open without a sound in front of them. Nero streaked forward and crashed into an invisible wall. Green web patterns appeared across its surface upon impact and forced Nero to stumble back a couple of steps. Ramy was shaking her head at him as she stepped beyond the invisible wall and out of his reach.

"You can't keep me here!" Nero growled angrily.

"It's a preventative magic shield. It's specifically designed to keep any demonic energy from entering. We must keep you safe at all costs."

"I thought I was your prisoner," Nero said.

"You may perceive it as you wish, I don't really care. Sparda would not be pleased if we didn't make precautions."

"I told you _Sparda is dead._"

"You do like repeating yourself. Sparda will not be dead forever. In fact, his return is just around the corner."

The door slid shut and Nero leaned against it weakly a minute later. He pressed his forehead to the cool glass and lightly thudded his fist against it.

"Great."


	3. Chapter 3: Cooperation

**Greetings again! As you are all well aware by now, this story originally belongs to Clairavance. I have adopted the story, and my writing involvement in it won't officially begin until Chapter 13. **

**And so it continues; is Nero any closer to finding out The Order's true motives?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the story; it comes from the brilliant mind of Clairavance. All characters-barring any OCs she created-are the property of Capcom.**

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**Chapter 3: Level 3: Cooperation**

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The door shifted open without a hint of sound but Nero's deep blue eyes were trained on it. He didn't know how long he'd been in there with nothing but his own thoughts for company. Although there were no windows or temperature changes - or anything - that gave him any indication of just how much time had passed, but it became evident to him after the first couple of days that things were run in a very organised, very predictable way.

Today Ramy was dressed in a long green dress and her glossy dark locks were pulled back in a braid. She met him with the innocent, warm smile of a child, but her eyes were too jaded and intelligent for someone her age. Nero leaned his head back against the wall across from the door, watching her carefully as she carried a tray to a new rounded table that had replaced the one he'd broken. Fresh bread, brewed herbal tea, and fruit, seemed to be on the menu for breakfast this morning.

"Have some tea, Nero."

"How long are you going to keep me locked in here?" Nero asked.

"That depends on when you'll be willing to cooperate with us. Unless we can trust that you will trust us, we cannot simply let you wander around. What if you were to run off? Lord forbid, that would be dreadful!" Ramy said and turned to face him. "You do look so miserable alone here. It would be so much more convenient if you could simply trust us."

"The last Order I trusted turned the man I considered a brother against me. When they realized I'm a descendant of Sparda they wanted to use me to complete their bullshit fantasy," Nero said, clenching his devil hand into a fist. It glowed a brighter blue in response to his temper. "Now you crazy bastards have me locked up and on display, and you need me for...who knows, you guys probably have a statue of Sparda or something that you need me to power up for you. How close am I?"

Ramy smiled at his cold stare. "In order for me to disclose information to you about our mission, we must trust you first, Nero. Sorry, but that is how it works."

"Well whatever it is you want from me, forget it," Nero said and closed his burning eyes. He hadn't slept well in this confinement, his nerves too high strung in this predicament. He'd been spending his time examining every corner of the room repeatedly, hoping that some flaw would jump out at him, that he would finally find a way to get out of this place. But the magic shields were strong and whole. The floor beneath the soft carpet was solid concrete and below the concrete was a base of sharp steel. He knew because he'd tried to dig his way out and ended up with bloody and broken hands.

Nero opened his eyes and observed the ceiling above him. He'd considered going up but whatever the ceiling was made of was too sturdy for even his Devil Bringer to punch through. A perfect little cage.

"If you would only lower your guard and give us the benefit of the doubt, your time here with us will be much more pleasant."

Nero gave a curt chuckle. "Yeah, right."

"The son of Sparda is much more approachable about our quest. He understands the importance of what it is we're doing, and he knows we are doing only what is necessary."

"Wait. Dante is here?" Nero asked, caught off guard.

"No," Ramy said, furrowing her brow and gracefully sitting down on a chair nearby. "Dante is not very welcoming to us. Like you, he suspects our intent is malicious of nature. Knowing how well his brother absorbed the information about our tasks, we presumed Dante would be the same. He was quite indifferent to our first appeal for his aid and demanded a ridiculous sum of money in advance."

Nero laughed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "So he told you to go screw yourselves?"

"You make light of a very serious situation, Nero. No amount of money should be put upon the fate of the worlds," Ramy said condescendingly. "Unfortunately Dante was not impressed when we mentioned the pending return of the Emperor of Darkness."

"He deals with that kind of thing a lot," Nero shrugged, and waved his hands in surrender at the livid look the girl gave him. "The world is always on the verge of ending because of some big bad evil guy."

"Who said anything about the world ending?" Ramy scoffed. "If he served the same purpose his father did, he wouldn't have threatened our safety and very rudely kicked us out of his office the way he did. We've had to resort to force to bring him in."

"How's that working for ya?" Nero smirked.

Ramy's face fell. "We have our men in position. We're hoping Dante has a change of heart before we must take action. As I understand, the mention of his father's name flicked a switch in the poor kid. He has a lot of resentment and loathing toward Sparda, though I don't blame him. Sparda was very complex. A difficult person, you understand? I have faith that Dante will rise above his emotional insecurities and that his respect and pride in Sparda will overcome all else."

"You sound pretty arrogant, even for a saint. Dante's not a 'kid'," Nero said, climbing to his feet when his stomach clenched in painful hunger.

"In comparison to his father he is."

"And how old are you, twelve?" Nero taunted, grabbing a hot slice of bread and flopping down on his bed.

"Eleven," Ramy said and slowly turned to watch him eat. "That is the age I was when Sparda selected which members would become the council of our Order, and which members will be sent out in the world to continue his work."

"What are you babbling about now?" Nero mumbled through a mouthful.

"Time does not exist in this realm, Nero."

Nero chewed thoughtfully as he studied her stern young face. "You were hand-picked by Sparda himself. Is that what you're saying?"

Her eyes lit up and she nodded. "Yes. I am a member of the council, chosen specifically for my skills in the art of the smithy and the craft of magic. When war comes my skills will be needed to protect and arm our warriors."

"You expect me to believe that Sparda picked a little girl and put her in a timeless realm so she could come abduct his descendants a few hundred years later?" Nero asked and snorted, arching his eyebrows as he bit into a juicy pear. "You guys make Sanctus look sane."

"Oh, we've only abducted you. You're hot tempered and given what you'd gone through recently, we knew there was no chance to reason with you first. Sparda's sons are older and...we presume wiser, and will consider our plea before making a decision."

Nero shook his head and took a sip of the steamy green tea. It felt good to fill the hole in his stomach. Not that they hadn't been feeding him, but when his gut told him something was off about the food, he backed away and went hungry.

The bread felt fresh in his hand and the fruit was sweet on his tongue, though. The tea somehow complimented the aromas and taste, and quickly sated the cramps in his abdomen. "But we don't have a choice, else I wouldn't be trapped here, right? You're going to try to use force to get Dante here."

"Not try. We will succeed."

"Then you don't know Dante."

"We've watched him since the day he was born. I'm sure it's safe to assume we know him well enough. Else we wouldn't be giving him time to rethink our request," Ramy said evenly.

"Does that mean you've watched me since I was born, too?"

"Of course, you were born in Fortuna right under our noses. Of course we watched you."

Nero froze and squinted at the soft blurry lines of the girl's face. He blinked, and looked around the room slowly. Everything seemed to be touched with a soft, warm glow that made his focus fuzzy. He tried to put the cup down but couldn't control his hand and dropped it instead. The fine porcelain shattered on the floor. He looked down at the food in front of him and let out a sharp breath.

"You drugged me," Nero heard himself say in a fuzzy voice.

"It wouldn't have been necessary if you'd simply cooperated with us," Ramy said, suddenly in front of him. "Here, lie down."

His heart was jolting hard and fast against his chest as she forced him back into the pillows on the bed. She rolled up his sleeves and turned her head toward the door, calling out in a language foreign to his ears. Two blurry figures in violet and black came trudging into the room. They were carrying trays loaded with odd looking bags and wires and needles. Ramy fussed with the things, all the while speaking to him in calm, even tones.

"This is one of a minimal, if not the most significant, things we need of you for now. This will aid in our preparation to fulfil our quest." Nero felt something cold press against arm, followed by a sharp, burning sting. He managed to turn his head and blinked dazedly. The bag being held next to him was quickly filling with dark crimson.

"The average human body contains between 3 to 4 litres of blood. It could take up to six weeks to replenish the loss of blood if, say, less than a pint of blood has been drained."

"Why are you doing this?" Nero mumbled. His temper flared and died again and again inside of him. He was too numb to take control of anything, even his own emotions that used to give him an energy boost in the past was beyond his reach.

"It is necessary. Blood is precious. Blood is life. Because your blood regenerates faster we'll be taking about eight litres off you today. If you were human you'd be drained dry...but your body is recuperating even as we speak."

"I'll stop you. Even if it kills me, I'll stop whatever it is you're trying to do."

"Not try. Why do you believe us to be so incompetent? We will succeed, Nero, we were not chosen as the elite for no reason."


	4. Chapter 4: Deadlines

**I'm back again with another one of Clairavance's chapters. After this one, I'm going to try and stagger them, so that anyone who decides to read this isn't too overwhelmed (and also so I have adequate time to start preparations for Chapter 13, which as previously mentioned is where my writing will be coming in).**

**And so the plot thickens, my friends!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own this work of fiction; it belongs to Clairavance. The characters-barring the OCs mentioned in the Order-are the property of Capcom.**

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**Chapter 4: Level 4: Deadlines**

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"We should escort him to his new chamber while he's weakened," the black figure in Nero's peripheral vision spoke in a deep, gruff murmur.

"Should we let him meet the other one, too?" Ramy asked. She slipped a new needle into the back of his hand. Nero flinched and closed his heavy eyes.

"Vergil? No, not yet. The boy needs to believe that we mean him no harm before we risk exposing him to anything or anyone else involved."

"I don't see what damage it would cause, Alaric," Ramy said. "It could only help everything move forward. If we can't convince him that our intentions are good then perhaps his fellow kin _can_."

"Our methods are precise and exactly to Lord Sparda's specifications. He has taken human will and error into account so that _we_ will prosper in our endeavours and not fail due to our own human flaws," Alaric said icily. "The boy is not trustworthy."

"Yes, but Vergil trusts us. He'll be able to explain to Nero-"

"The boy is more likely to plant a seed of doubt in the man's head. We've worked hard and long to earn his trust. We cannot let the boy sabotage all our effort because he feels we're keeping him prisoner for some evil scheme!"

"The boy's name is_ Nero_. He can hear every word you speak, Alaric."

"I thought you drugged him?"

"I gave him a mild sedative that creates the illusion of paralysis," Ramy said scathingly, her grasp firming on Nero's wrist. "I needed him calm and easy to direct, not unconscious."

"Foolishness, Ramy!"

"Do you really want to give him any more reason to think we're the villains by knocking him out? Why don't you bring a pair of cuffs and a whip while you're at it? I'm sure he's expecting no less from us at this stage."

"Don't be ludicrous! He would not have donated his blood willingly, and we need it immediately if we're to help Sparda. You know this!"

"Yes, and now so does Nero," Ramy said with a heavy sigh. "You were saying about human error?"

"Shut your mouth, girl," Alaric growled.

Silence followed before a sweet, soft voice filled it. "I don't wish to attend Vergil any longer, Ramy."

"You don't wish to attend a son of Sparda," Ramy said with a faint, bitter chuckle. "I wonder why."

"His eyes frighten me."

"That's only your primal instincts responding to his nature. After we explained everything to him, he's done nothing but comply to our demands without question. He will not hurt you, Victoria."

"Doesn't it worry you that...maybe he accepted things so readily because he could work circumstances to his advantage?"

"What are you suggesting? That he's only helping us because he has his own agenda?"

"It's not an impossibility."

"Victoria, your fears are unfounded. Even if Vergil is helping us for his own benefit, it is Sparda who devised this task for us. He spent a few years with his sons, and we've been watching over them since they were in the womb. Don't you think our lord would have considered every possible factor that could go wrong?" Ramy said reassuringly.

"Yes, but would he have made precautions for each factor?"

"Why don't you ask Flore? She was the one he asked to counsel time and time again to confirm her premonitions of the future."

"Flore gets pissy when anyone questions the accuracy of her abilities."

Ramy giggled and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Why do you doubt Sparda?"

"I don't! I'm just... I don't trust Vergil."

"I thought we were all in agreement that trust was established between us and Vergil," Ramy said.

"You thought wrong. He gives me chills when he looks at me," Victoria whispered. "He has the eyes of a killer."

"I think he has lovely eyes. He inherited it from his mother you know, and she was such a precious thing."

Nero forced himself to move and look at the girl beside him. She was older, closer to Kyrie's age, and had fiery long hair that swirled around her pale, heart-shaped face.

"Stop." Nero breathed the word out, barely able to form the syllables.

"We need another half pint," Victoria said slow and clearly.

"No." Nero said and rolled his head weakly.

"Alright, alright," Ramy said quickly, and the needle in his arm came out with stinging relief.

"But we need anoth-" Victoria started, alarmed.

"Then we can get it from Vergil. Go get him set up for it."

"But Ramy!"

"But Victoria!" Ramy echoed back mockingly. "Just do it, and take these bags to the fire cauldron to keep it from going off. The last thing we want is for all of this to be done in vain."

"You're impossible!" Victoria said with a shake of her head. "Weren't we just discussing my discomfort around that devil?"

Ramy stopped fussing with Nero for a second to stare at the girl across the bed. "Which would you prefer, the brief discomfort of drawing blood from a willing devil or the scolding we'll receive because you were too concerned over your personal well-being? Sparda will not be impressed if we fail."

"We will not fail. Our lord will return to us!" Victoria snapped back with such vehemence that it jolted Nero's mind back to full awareness.

"If we're _late_, we fail," Ramy bit the words off distinctly. "Can you grasp that fact? As it is we're already running behind schedule, so unless we keep things up to speed and progressing here, and unless we can bring Dante in and have him work with us immediately, _and unless _we can do all of this efficiently without turning any of Sparda's lineage against us, _we will fail. _Now go!"

Victoria collected the blood bags on a large tray and her footsteps faded quickly from the room. Ramy was frowning deeply as she set aside the needles and attached a bag filled with watery liquid to the needle still nestled in his hand. Nero watched her as the fuzz melted away into crisp, clear lines and vibrant, solid colours. His head swam with the sudden overload of fresh images and he found he could move again.

He reached over to rip the needle from his hand, but Ramy's own hands locked around his devil bringer and clung to it tightly. "Don't. It's just water, to help replenish you or you might faint."

"What the hell is going on?" Nero snapped, pulling his hand free of hers and pushing himself up on the bed.

"I can't-"

"What are you going to use all my blood for?"

"Nero, please-"

"Where's Vergil? Let me speak to him!"

"Listen," Ramy said tightly. "If you shut up and stop interrupting me, and swear you'll let me explain so you may come to understand what we're doing, I will take you to him but first-"

"Then talk. I'm all ears," Nero said.

"_But first_ I will take you to your chamber. It's finally been mended and I'm sure you will find it far more comfortable than this place."

"Why don't you tell me what's going on before I go anywhere with you?" Nero countered.

"Because right now your mind is still too sluggish to memorize what is taking place. I would prefer you coherent and fully present when I speak to you. Now, will you come with me willingly, or should I call Alaric back in here to carry you?"


	5. Chapter 5: Extremes

**Hello everybody! I figured I'd get a couple more of Clairavance's chapters up today. This has got to be one of my favourite chapters that she wrote for this story. I love, absolutely LOVE the way she portrayed the characters here, and the dialogue...**

**Well, suffice it to say I adore everything about it. :) Without further ado, I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the story; it belongs to Clairavance. The characters, aside from her OCs, belong to Capcom.**

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**Chapter 5: Level 5: Extremes**

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The new chamber was, as Ramy had promised, far more comfortable. Dark red wallpapered walls, an elaborate fireplace, a bed twice as big and soft as the one he'd first been resigned to. A set of heavy drawers filled with clothes, and electronic gadgets with a set of headphones way better than the pair he'd had before. There were a couple of plush armchairs and shelves lined with books and, to Nero's great relief, he had an en-suite bathing chamber with solid stone walls.

Once he reappeared from the small chamber, clean and dressed in fresh clothes he recognized as his own, his aim was for the bed. Though he didn't feel as bad as he thought he would, he was still weak from the blood loss. Nero was halfway across the room when something he hadn't expected caught his eye.

There, on a side table, sat an antique phone. Nero sent one glance at the door before strolling across the room and grabbing up the receiver, afraid that it might suddenly disappear. He pressed it to his ear, and his eyes widened in disbelief when a ring tone greeted him.

He kept his back to the wall, his eyes trained on the door as he dialled a number with slightly shaking fingers. He listened with bated breath as the call connected after a moment's silence. His heart raced in synch with the rhythmical ringing. He didn't expect to find a phone here, even less one that would work. Wasn't he supposed to be in a different realm or something? Talk about getting a call from the other side!

Nero's knees buckled suddenly when the beautiful familiar voice he'd hoped but didn't expect to hear slid into his ear.

"Hello?"

Nero took a deep, trembling breath and closed his eyes as he pressed his devil hand against his forehead.

"_Hello_? Is anyone there?"

"Kyrie," Nero managed.

"Nero! I was just thinking about you," Kyrie said, her voice lighting up like sunshine and melting him to the core. "I've missed you so much, your work people honestly had to restrain me from coming to see you personally. I won't, of course, because they said it would upset you if I was to come there. But you've finally called! They said you would call as soon as you got the chance."

"They did?" Nero asked weakly.

"Yes! They said you're busy with very...important things. Nero, what's wrong? You don't sound happy."

"I... I want to come home."

"I want you to come home, too," Kyrie's tone softened. "I miss you terribly. But you're doing a very good job, Nero. There hasn't been any demon attacks for a month."

"What?"

"They didn't tell you? Whatever secret work it is they have you doing, it's been good for Fortuna. We can walk on the streets now without fear of being attacked."

"What did they tell you, Kyrie?"

"That you're needed for a very vital position in their mission. Why, Nero, tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't trust them. Kyrie, I don't trust them with you."

"But...they said that you and Dante are working together. You've done so before and everything worked out well in the end."

"No, they're...Dante's not here," Nero said, confused, and his head snapped up when furious shouting echoed outside his door. Nero frowned hard, listening.

"...see who will be smiling when I'm through with you, you fucking suck-ups!"

Nero flew to his feet, adrenaline kicking through his system. "On second thought, I have to go."

"Alright. Take care, Nero, and please don't make me wait too long for your next call."

"I love you, Kyrie," Nero said and slammed the receiver down before streaking toward the door.

There was no magic shield that stopped him, and he opened it just in time to see four brawny men dragging a red clad figure past his room.

"...thought you said it would last until we got him to the chamber!"

"It was supposed to! It was a double dose of what we'd given Vergil!"

"Let go of me if you don't want to lose your god-damn arms!"

"Just take it easy, we told you we're not going to hu-"

The tall red figure wrenched free of the men suddenly and staggered back on unsteady legs. "Take one step closer to me and it will be the last thing you do!"

"Take it easy!"

"Steady now or you'll hurt yourself."

"Where is it, huh?" Dante growled back, swaying from side to side before leaning his hand against the wall. "Where's my stuff?"

"In safe keeping. We can't afford you breaking anything."

"Heh, who says I need metal or lead to break anything?" Dante said coldly, waving his fist at them.

"We gave you fair warning that it will come to this!"

"And I told you to go fuck yourselves, but you didn't listen and here we are!" Dante said, spreading his arms wide.

"Hit him with another dose. Do it now!"

Something swished through the air and Dante leaned back and twisted around to dodge it with an angry chuckle. Nero watched the dart whiz by and clatter to the floor a few feet away from them before lifting his gaze to look at Dante.

"Nero?" Dante asked, stumped.

"Don't!" Nero shouted a second before another dart sang through the air and planted itself firmly in Dante's shoulder. He barely made it in time to catch the devil hunter as he went down, and he had to crouch down to keep Dante's weight.

"Good catch," one of the men remarked as they circled him.

"Yeah, he was tougher than we initially thought."

"Alright, we'll take it from here, boy."

Nero glared up at them. "Fuck off."

The men halted in their tracks and looked back at him in obvious frustration. "Hand him over."

"Why, so you can go lock him up like some animal?"

"We do only what is necessary!"

"Where's your humanity?" Nero snarled as he lugged Dante toward his chamber.

Ramy stepped into the corridor from another door and frowned when she spotted them. "What's going on? Nero, what are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" Nero grunted and hauled Dante over the threshold.

"What happened?" Ramy demanded, and sighed heavily when the men explained. She stood in the doorway and watched Nero lurch Dante onto the bed with a tired breath.

"Don't exert yourself, Nero. You're still quite weak from earlier."

"Tell those idiots if they come near him again, I'm going to Devil Bringer their asses into the next life," Nero returned angrily.

"You heard him. Go on, I'll call on you if you're needed," Ramy said. She waited until the men dispersed before looking at Nero again. "Can I come in, please?"

"Oh, now suddenly you have manners?" Nero said.

Ramy shrugged and glided into the room, closing the door firmly behind her. "Is the room to your liking?" She asked, leaning over Dante and pressing her fingers against his neck.

"Yeah...it's... what are you doing?" Nero asked, staring when she put her head on Dante's chest.

"I won't be a moment," Ramy said, nearly running from the room.

Nero checked Dante's breathing and pulse, both which seemed solid, and went over to the furnace to get a fire going. The door burst open behind him a second later, and Ramy locked the door behind her. She flicked her fingers at it, murmuring something Nero couldn't make out, and he watched the door melt into the wall in disbelief.

"You're a witch, too?" Nero asked.

"I told you I'm skilled in magic," Ramy snapped at him, literally running over to the bed and bending over Dante. She dipped her finger in a small glass bowl filled with green clumps that glittered in the firelight, and paused to send him an apologetic look. "Sorry, I don't mean to snap at you."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm bringing him around. With the amount of sedatives they've pumped into the poor kid, they could have taken down Mundus himself," Ramy said, and stroked the green substance above Dante's top lip.

His reaction was instant - his eyes snapped open and he gasped for breath, rolling onto his side and wiping at his face. Ramy backed away quickly and, to Nero's surprise, straight toward him instead. Dante was sitting up on the bed, dazed and furious.

"Damn," Dante muttered, wiping at his eyes and squinting at him. "Ug…Nero? What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"I've been asking them the same thing since I got here," Nero said, watching him worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Eh," Dante patted himself down and shook his head. "Did they say Vergil?"

"Vergil?" Nero repeated for a confused moment.

"Am I dreaming?"

"No."

"Then they_ did _say Vergil is here?"

"Yes."

"How about it," Dante said to himself, and shook his head again. "Damn, I feel like I'm spinning in circles."

"It'll wear off," Ramy said quietly.

Dante lifted his gaze to glare at her with piercing cold eyes. "How about you start explaining exactly how you managed to resurrect the dead, little witch, or do I have to drag it out of you?"


	6. Chapter 6: Fortuna

**Here's that next chapter, as promised! As I stated before, I'm staggering the chapters so that I don't overload all of you too much, so that you can have a chance to enjoy them. In a couple of days, I'll upload two more. **

**As you can see, the plot thickens; now you get a better glimpse into what the Order hopes to achieve, what they truly are like. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the story; it comes from the brilliant mind of Clairavance. The characters, aside from the OC of Ramy and any other members of the order she created, belong to Capcom.**

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**Chapter 6: Level 6: Fortuna**

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Ramy lifted her chin defiantly and stared back at him evenly. "I can't tell you how but I will tell you why. As soon as you calm down."

"I am calm!" Dante roared back.

"You're intimidated by us because we were able to knock you out. You're unsure about everything because you don't know who you're really up against..."

"What is this, a bad pep talk?" Dante interrupted.

"... but you should know that the feeling is mutual," Ramy finished, narrowing her eyes at him. "We are many; humans, witches, devils, and we have all been personally tutored by Sparda. But you are his heirs, he lives in each of you. We are as daunted and unsure about you as you are of us."

"Well," Dante said, getting to his feet. "It sure as hell didn't stop you from attacking me."

"You had to be subdued. We need you, and we need your full cooperation."

"So you're going to be draining his blood, too?" Nero frowned, stepping away from Ramy.

"What?" Dante snapped.

"They've been talking about needing us to help Sparda."

"With blood?" Dante said thoughtfully, the dazed look fading quickly from his face.

Nero and Dante exchanged looks before turning to Ramy. She shrank back under their furious eyes but stood her ground.

"So what do you have? Another statue to power up? Or let me guess, it's your daddy's life goal to obtain the power of Sparda. How far off the mark am I, kid?" Dante said.

"My father died long ago whilst fighting to protect Fortuna from falling into ruin," Ramy said heatedly, folding her arms and staring back at them with fire in her eyes. "We need your blood to help Sparda return to us."

"No shit," Dante muttered, studying her.

"You're using blood as sacrifice to some deity, is that it? Look, whatever your witchy gods promised in retu-"

"We serve only Sparda," Ramy said indignantly.

"You want to resurrect him," Nero said harshly.

"You make it sound like a bad thing!" Ramy said.

Nero gritted his teeth when tears welled in her round green eyes and backed away from her angrily. Dante didn't seem to take notice.

"What for?" Dante asked. "To steal his abilities and power that way? And why resurrect Vergil, what role does he have to play in this fiasco?"

"To defend Fortuna," Ramy said and let out a little sob, wiping helplessly at her tears.

"And why would Vergil care to do something like that?" Dante asked with a derisive snort.

"Not just him. All of you. That is why we must keep you here. Without any of you, we cannot execute Sparda's plan."

"What plan?" Nero asked, pacing restlessly. He didn't like where this was going. "What are we supposed to be doing?"

"Waiting. The plan was perfect before, you see. But something unexpected happened," Ramy said, and her eyes met Nero's. "It caused a great amount of confusion and delay in the plan. No one foresaw Vergil rising up against Mundus, or the legacy he would leave behind. Part of him is in you, but we had to wait and watch to be sure that you were not his reincarnation. We didn't know for certain until Dante confirmed our suspicion that Vergil had been defeated."

Dante arched his eyebrows and turned away. "Where's the door out of this place?"

"Only then did we descend into hell to collect whatever remained of his soul."

"I've heard enough," Dante sighed impatiently.

Ramy ignored him, and stepped closer to Nero. "We searched hard for it, and we had to fight for it. We lost many of our members. The Underworld is no place for humans."

"Exactly, so what possessed you to go hunting for a spark in the demon realm?" Dante said, tracing the wall with slow steps.

"I took an oath to live true to my aspirations and to carry them out. Mine is the same as every other member of our Order. To fight for peace and destroy all evil. The same as the oath Sparda laid down before us when he reigned as the feudal lord of our city," Ramy said, and Dante stopped in his tracks. "We will strive to do anything, to sacrifice anything, to fulfil our purpose. If that meant we had to lay siege upon the Underworld, then we would do it. If that means bringing temperamental devils who could pose a risk to our well-being into our safehouse, then so be it."

Dante hung his head and went still. Nero was watching Ramy doubtfully. "You're really going to resurrect Sparda?"

"Yes," Ramy said, and wiped her palms on her dress. "Although we are behind schedule, it is inevitable that Sparda will return to us. We must simply wait for him. That is all we are doing right now. It is all we can do."

"So what happens if your plan backfires?" Nero asked.

"You're still sceptical that we will not succeed?" Ramy said.

"I'm just worried that the guy you think you're bringing back isn't the guy you think he is."

"Of course he is. There is only one Sparda, you cannot mistake him for any other," Ramy chided.

"Yeah, okay... but what is the next plan of action if you manage to bring him back?" Nero asked.

A cold, drawling voice belonging to none in the room, answered from the shadows, "We fight."


	7. Chapter 7: Gloria

**Hello everyone! I hope your New Years and the holidays prior to were pleasant. :) Here is yet another chapter from Clairavance's story, the plot continuing to unfold between Dante, Nero, and you guessed it-Vergil! There seems to be a great deal of confusion still wreaking havoc for our characters, as they continue to try and make sense of the Order's true motives.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the story; it belongs to Clairavance. The characters, barring Ramy and other members of the Order that Clairavance created, belong to Capcom.**

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**Chapter 7: Level 7: Gloria**

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Nero turned toward the voice the same instant Dante jolted away from it. A tall figure clad in black trousers and vest, and a long blue coat, emerged from the shadows, a scowl on his familiar features. Nero edged forward uncertainly, blinking in surprise.

"How did you get in here?" Ramy broke the shocked silence.

The man sighed and closed his eyes. He made to speak but paused when his gaze landed on Nero approaching him. A long mute moment followed before, once again, Ramy disturbed it.

"Well, Vergil?"

"I came through the door," Vergil said, and glanced toward the solid walls. "Before you brought your witchery into the room."

"I didn't hear you come in," Nero said, staring.

"You're not supposed to be here, Vergil. This is all wrong!" Ramy said, pressing her hands to her head in agitation.

"I heard a commotion and came to see if you might need my help to-" Vergil cut himself off suddenly when he met Dante's gaze. His scowl faded into a confident, arrogant smirk. "Hello, brother."

"If I had a gun," Dante mumbled under his breath, rooted to the ground and glaring.

"You'd what, shoot me?" Vergil said, challenging.

"Don't cause trouble!" Ramy stepped in between them. "You're on the same side! We're all on the same side!"

Vergil backed off just as Dante stepped forward. "You're in on it? I should have guessed. You seem to have the knack for playing the puppet-" Dante used trickster to move out of the way when Vergil abruptly appeared right in front of him with his fist pulled back.

"Please! No fighting! Nero, stay out of this!" Ramy cried, trying to hold Nero back as he headed for the whirlwind of red and blue.

"You got slower!" Dante's voice chuckled above the loud shriek of the wind their game of chase caused. "Or maybe I got faster!"

"Shut up!" Vergil snarled.

Nero stumbled and lost his balance when an explosion of bright purple erupted amid the twister, flinging red and blue apart. Vergil regained his balance and skidded across the floor on his feet. Dante did the same but came up short with his back connecting with the wall.

"What the hell was that?" Dante demanded.

"I've told you before no violence between members will be tolerated!" Ramy was scolding Vergil, her hands on her hips and her face set sternly.

"That was Sparda's power. You swore to me that you would not extract it from him-" Vergil started, equally furious.

"That wasn't me!" Ramy said, caught off guard when she understood their meaning. "Are you delusional? I don't have... I would never steal..."

Vergil's glare faded at her flustered response and his eyes cleared.

"I think we've seen enough to know what is going on here," Nero intervened and poked her on the nose. "And you can count me out. I don't know about you guys but I'm getting the hell out of here."

"I'm with the kid," Dante said, jerking his finger in Nero's direction as he started to follow.

Nero stretched out his arm, pulled a fist, and swung a good blow at the wall. The blue vision of the Devil Bringer did the same and bulldozed straight through the stone wall.

"No! Not again!" Ramy cried in exasperation. "Stop or we will resort to force!"

"Then bring it on!" Nero threw back at her before disappearing down the corridor alongside Dante.

"I gotta find my gear, kid," Dante muttered as they jogged down a long flight of stairs.

"I have to find mine, too. They took everything off me," Nero said, pausing on a small platform. A fleet of men were bounding toward them from the stairs before and behind them, and two men with what looked like dart guns were trying to get their aim on them from the long narrow corridor to their left. Dante kicked open the door to their right and barricaded it behind them.

"_Everything_?" Dante ground out as they pushed a tall metal file cabinet in front of the door.

Nero paused, and glanced down at his Devil Bringer in surprise. "Yamato. I haven't used it since you gave it to me."

"You still got it, then?" Dante asked, leading the way across what appeared to be an office of sorts with high-tech machinery. He climbed onto a desk and ripped the vent cover out of the wall.

"Yeah," Nero said. "They can't get to it unless I summon it."

"Good, so we're not entirely unarmed after all," Dante said. "That will make things a whole lot easier."

Nero followed Dante through the maze of tunnels, doing his best to keep up with the elder hunter. When they finally came upon a vent that conveniently overlooked the room that housed their weapons, they were met with a sight that neither of them anticipated. Their weapons were spread out on long steel tables, with a lot of devil arms Nero didn't recognize, but it was the curvaceous woman in skimpy regal dress tied to a chair that was completely unexpected. There was blood on her and all around her.

"Gloria?" Nero asked, frowning. He had to grab Dante and restrain him when he made to blindly leap into the room. "Wait! This could be a trap!"

"I don't give a fuck," Dante snapped, shoving Nero off roughly before breaking into the room.

Dante had his guns in his hands, spinning around to briefly scan the room before going over to the woman as Nero cautiously slipped into the room.

"Trish? Trish, can you hear me?" Dante sounded real angry, and even more worried.

Nero hurried over and started to untie her when a door opened and closed, and footsteps approached.

"You bastard," Dante spat.

"Don't attempt to insult me," Vergil's haughty voice came back sharply. "Leave the woman. Her fate is yet to be decided."

Dante fired several rounds at Vergil, the gunshots cracking through the room. Nero watched in disbelief as Vergil simply blocked each bullet with his bare arms. Small purple sparks exploded on impact, dropping the bullets to the floor and leaving Vergil unscathed.

"What the hell is going on!" Nero said, rising to his feet in total confusion. "I thought that witch had Sparda's power."

"And now apparently so do I," Vergil said mockingly.

"You can do whatever you want, but I am going to take my belongings and I am going to take Trish, and we are going to walk out of here. Got it?" Dante said icily.

"That's mine," Vergil said when Dante snatched up Beowulf.

"Tch," Dante shrugged him off, collecting his devil arms.

"You're not going anywhere," Vergil said with a heavy sigh. "We must remain here until Sparda returns, and wait for his orders. And would you stop staring at me?" Vergil growled, turning to glare at Nero.

Nero pulled a face of incredulity at him. "It's kinda hard not to. You look just like Dante."

"We're brothers, what did you expect?" Vergil said.

"Not you," Nero arched an eyebrow at him, and stepped forward when Vergil moved closer. "If you want the lady, you'll have to go through me first."

"If you want to get out of here, you'll have to go through me first," Vergil replied frostily.

"With pleasure," Nero smirked, and summoned Yamato in a bright flash of blue. His smirk deepened when Vergil's eyes widened and he staggered back into one of the tables. "You should be scared. Now keep out of the way and no one gets hu-" Nero caught himself mid-sentence at the look Vergil was giving him.

Dante had frozen and turned to give Vergil a weary, sidelong glance. "Don't look at the kid that way. I gave it to him."

"Why?" Vergil breathed out in, what Nero assumed, was shock.

"I thought you were dead," Dante said defiantly. "And the kid proved himself worthy of it, anyway."

"You don't just hand out devil arms because you want to downsize your damn collection," Vergil said each word with growing fury.

"Heh," Dante smirked, and turned to scoop Trish into his arms. Her wounds had healed, as far as he could tell.

"You think this is amusing?" Vergil snapped. "And put down that devil! She can't be trusted!"

"I hear a lot of trust issues going around this place," Dante said and faced Vergil. "Are you going to move or do we have to do this the hard way?"

"Argh...you fool! We found her in the Underworld nearly torn to shreds and brought her here. We cannot trust her because she had been exposed to Mundus. Her fate lies in Sparda's hands."

"What was she doing in the Underworld?" Dante asked sceptically.

Vergil picked up the Sparda sword next to him and twirled it meaningfully. Dante's face fell, and he glanced down at Trish before retreating from Vergil.

"No. Trish wouldn't..."

"You don't know that for sure," Vergil interrupted. "The devil I once knew wouldn't find it below herself to betray a son of Sparda, and I can personally vouch for that."

"Trish wouldn't!" Dante raised his voice in anger.

"You don't know the way things work in the Underworld, Dante," Vergil said.

"I'm with Dante on this one," Nero intervened, warily eyeing the sword Vergil was twirling about. "Gloria...I mean Trish helped Dante fight the Savior."

"Stay out of this, boy," Vergil snapped.

"How do you know for sure that she didn't go looking for Dante in the Underworld?" Nero shot back.

"That's what I was getting at. We don't know whose side she is on-"

"She's on my side!" Dante frowned.

"And give that to me before you break it!" Vergil said, pointing the Sparda sword at Nero.

Nero looked surprised for a second before wielding the katana smoothly in his hands. "Huh, over my dead body."

"Nero..." Dante started.

"Foolish boy. You clearly do not know who you challenge so recklessly," Vergil retorted, stepping up to Nero dangerously.

"Oh yeah..." Nero barked back in his face.

"Would you two shut up!" Dante exploded. He'd laid Trish down on one of the now empty tables and pressed himself in between the two angry men. "What the hell is your problem? I gave the sword to Nero, so what? It's still in the family and you've got... one or two other devil arms," Dante said, giving Vergil a slight push. "Give the kid a break!"

"What are you saying?" Vergil asked, taken aback.

"Well, it's tradition to allow your son to inherit your possessions, isn't it?" Dante asked arrogantly.

"He's yours?" Vergil blinked, staring at Nero in surprise.

"What?" Nero exclaimed.

"What?" Dante echoed, confused. "No. No, you idiot! Yamato was never mine, I just passed it along because you weren't there to do it yourself."

"You're saying he's..." Nero trailed off and stared back at Vergil, daunted.

"What do you think that crazy chic was rambling on about when she said they thought you were him?" Dante said, nodding at Vergil.

"Impossible," Vergil muttered.

"You weren't exactly a monk," Dante retorted, and aimed Coyote-A at Vergil's head. "Now that the heart-warming family reunion business is over with, get out of the way before I kill you again."


	8. Chapter 8: Havoc

**Greetings again, readers! I'll make this brief; as you can see, I've continued to upload chapters from Clairavance's "The Order of Sparda". I felt the need to keep the reference note she wrote at the start, as it quite informative and should prevent any confusion within this chapter.**

**Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own "The Order of Sparda". It belong to Clairavance, along with any of the OCs she created within the order (such as Ramy, Kieran, and so on). All other characters are the property of Capcom**

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**Chapter 8: Level 8: Havoc**

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**Reference: The Nine Situations, Sun Tzu. There are only two situations that apply in the story, ****one being contentious ground ****(ground the possession of which imports great advantage to either side) which is where they currently are in this chapter - the good and evil forces are in equal balance on the ground, but until the warriors and their generals come strutting into the picture, the good forces must lie low - and ****the other being desperate ground**** (ground on which we can only be saved from destruction by fighting without delay). In a latter chapter the grounds change from contentious to desperate because the Order has the advantage of having Sparda, and the ground becomes desperate when his spies are compromised and forced to engage in battle.**

**Of course Sparda's spies are the elite of his troops. 'Soldiers when in desperate straits lose the sense of fear. If there is no place of refuge, they will stand firm. If they are in hostile country, they will show a stubborn front. If there is no help for it, they will fight hard. Thus, without waiting to be marshalled, the soldiers will be constantly on the qui vive; without waiting to be asked, they will do your will; without restrictions, they will be faithful; without giving orders, they can be trusted.' Like, I said, they're Sparda's elite.  
Simply put: on contentious ground, attack not, on desperate ground, fight.**

**'Ground' here translates to Fortuna, as this is where the ass-kicking, shooting and ****_merda_**** occurs.  
P.100 - 104.**

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The door behind Vergil burst open and the room flooded with men. Dante's arm dropped lifelessly to his side before he could pull the trigger as he spotted yet another dart sticking out of his shoulder.

"This is getting old real quick!" Dante snapped, throwing the dart aside. "Why don't you come fight me instead of pumping me full of poison?"

"That's not poison..." Vergil started. Dante shoved him into the table with an angry growl.

"Nero, get out of here," Dante said over his shoulder. "I'll hold them off."

"I can help you fight them," Nero protested.

"Get Trish out of here!"

Nero didn't think. He had Red Queen at his back, Blue Rose in his pocket and Trish in his arms so fast that none of the Order could react quick enough to stop him from escaping through the ventilation tunnel. It wasn't easy lugging her dead weight with him but he managed.

He reached the end of the tunnel and kicked the vent door open. He did a quick survey of the room – a tall room of metal and bolts with only two doors on either end. Nero carefully rested Trish against the wall and crouched down in front of her, gently shaking her.

"Trish. Trish, hey, come on, wake up. Trish," Nero said urgently.

Her blue eyes opened slowly and she blinked at him in bewilderment. "Nero?" She put a hand to her head. "Ugh...where are we?"

"I'm not sure, but we've got to get out of here. Come on," Nero said, helping her to her feet.

"Where is Dante?"

"He's holding back Vergil and the Order," Nero said, and quickly added at her alarmed expression. "Don't worry, I'm coming back for him as soon as I get you out of here."

"He's opposing the Order?" Trish asked, confused.

Nero shoved at one of the doors, hoping he was picking the right one. When it didn't budge, he reverted to a kick that should have rammed the door down, and when that didn't work he resorted to shooting it into pieces. A tiled corridor with glass walls stretched ahead of them. Nero nodded his head toward it, and Trish followed, unsure.

"Nero...you shouldn't run from them," Trish said.

Nero stopped and spun around to face her. "You don't know what you're talking about. They had you tied up and all bloody..."

"They were testing me. To see if I was working against them or with them," Trish shook her head at him, looking worried. "If I had been under Mundus's hand, I would have broken the bonds they tied me with and escaped with the sword Sparda. Why do you think they left me specifically in the room with that sword in my reach?"

"They said your fate lies in Sparda's hands. They were going to kill you," Nero said earnestly.

Trish wasn't listening. She had turned, and was now staring with wide eyes out the glass walls. Nero followed her gaze, and lost his breath. They were on a bridge, and what seemed to be an enormous underground room stretched far into the distance surrounding them. Upon the ground there were swarms of people wearing white uniforms. Some carried baskets of food, others had arms loaded with swords and crossbows, and some weren't human at all. There were small bungalows that lined the walls into a horizon Nero couldn't see.

"What the hell?" Nero said, his heart racing faster in his chest. "This can't be good."

"Yes," Trish said slowly, and gave Nero a slow glance. "Yes, it is."

"You're on their side?" Nero asked.

"So are you. You just don't know it yet," Trish said.

"Dante is not going to like this," Nero said.

"Please, Dante is going to love this," Trish said, her eyes gleaming as she turned back to stare at the army of people down below. "Nero, you should come with me. We will go find the others, and Dante, and we will discuss this."

"There is nothing to discuss," Nero said accusingly. "I'm getting out of here. Don't try to stop me because Dante will kill me if I hurt you."

"Nero, this is not the Order you've dealt with before," Trish tried to explain, but Nero was already heading down the corridor toward a large set of double doors.

"Save it for someone who cares," Nero said, pushing open one of the doors. The moment he did, the loud, drawn out wail of a siren went off. It made the glass walls sing and threw a frozen spell over the mass of people far below. Nero thought of making a real run for it then, expecting all the heads to suddenly turn and stare up at him, but no one moved.

The siren faded away after a short moment, leaving horrible echoes behind that rang through Nero's head. Still, there was no rush from the people below. Instead, they all seemed to merely stare at one another. From this height he couldn't see their faces but the overall emotion that bloomed forth from the people was nearly palpable.

Disappointment.

The door Nero's hand was still pressed against suddenly opened wider, catching him off guard. A tall, lean man with long, wild blue hair and large cat-tilted red eyes stepped through, and paused momentarily to nod at him.

"Nero," he said somberly, "I wish I could say it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, but..."

Nero narrowed his eyes at the devil before him and was about to shoot his mouth off when Ramy's voice made him turn.

"Kieran! What is our status?" She panted, and her eyes flitted to fix on Nero and Trish. "You two, come with me."

"He's not returned to us in time. We have failed," the devil with the red eyes said despondently.

"Well let's all sulk about it and stare at each other like morons, why don't we? What is our status, Kieran!" Ramy repeated in a voice with far too much authority for a child.

She seized Nero by the sleeve and dragged him after her with surprising force through the doors and onto an elevated platform. There was a long desk consisting of monitors and machinery that flashed orange and red lights, and at least thirty men and women wearing headphones - all of them were humans, as far as Nero could tell - and speaking in rushed, clipped voices into their mouthpieces. A large blank screen decorated the wall before them.

"We are awaiting the completion of the final stage of resurrecting Sparda," Kieran said, leading the way down the platform to the floor below.

"What is the final stage?" Trish asked beside Nero.

"His full return to us, of course," Kieran said, eyes darting from Trish to Nero.

"What was that alarm for?" Nero asked, confused.

Ramy opened her mouth, but Kieran beat her to it. "You don't know what's going on? Ramy, I thought I could trust you to do as small a task as informing them of the situation."

Ramy shrunk under Kieran's angry glare. "I was meaning to, but I was waiting for Nero to be ready to listen..."

"Madness!" Kieran spluttered in disbelief. "You think like a child! He will not ever be ready to receive this news, Ramy, you can't exactly break it to him over a cup of tea!"

"I am a child!" Ramy pouted.

"Never mind," Kieran muttered, leaning over a pair of people to jab at buttons with strange symbols. "Have we got visuals yet? Anyone?" He stopped to glare around the room. "Am I speaking to the damn walls here? _Do we have visuals_?"

"Not yet," a reply came from the back of the room.

"Then get onto it!" Kieran thundered.

"We should attack," Ramy piped up behind them.

"No, we only attack when we are on desperate ground," Kieran said brusquely.

"We _are _desperate, Kieran! We've run out of time and..." Ramy protested.

"You may know of armour and weaponry, little one, but you are not skilled in battle. We are on contentious ground. You_ do not _attack on contentious ground."

Nero frowned deeply at the exchange, and his eyes widened when understanding dawned on him. "War? You're talking about a war here, aren't you?"

"And what would you know of war?" Ramy spat before whirling around and storming from the room, dragging Trish with her.

Kieran watched her go, and took a reluctant Nero by the elbow and steered him from the room. "There's someone I'd like you to meet, Nero."


	9. Chapter 9: Ingenuity

**Hello again, readers! **

**So, the story continues to unfold, taking Nero on a dizzying, impossible ride as more of the truth comes to the surface. I won't say more than that, of course, since I don't want to ruin anything. Please feel free to review. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the "The Order of Sparda". It belongs to Clairavance, from whom I have merely adopted it. The OCs in the Order belong to her, as well. All other characters are the property of Capcom.**

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**Chapter 9: Level 9: Ingenuity**

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"I know this must be a lot for you to take in," Kieran was saying as he steered Nero across yet another glass bridge. "And the girl sowing unnecessary confusion is unfortunate. We are the Order of Sparda. We have all laid down an oath that we will fight for peace and-"

"Destroy all evil. Yeah, so I've heard," Nero interrupted warily.

"_What_ we are," Kieran continued on, undeterred, "is an army made of indestructible will power and skill."

"Even Ramy?" Nero asked, lifting an eyebrow sceptically.

Kieran grunted. "If not for her expertise in her field of work, our fleet would be much smaller in size. Don't underestimate our strength merely because we have children involved. We are a force to be feared on the battlefield."

Nero thought this over, watching his feet as they walked. He halted in his tracks and frowned at the devil. "That siren was meant to be your cue to attack, wasn't it?"

"We had planned, and hoped, that when the time came Sparda would be here to lead us," Kieran nodded. "The siren is a signal that the Temen-Ni-Gru has once again risen from the depths of hell and that the seal has been broken."

"What seal?" Nero asked, his stomach twisting into nauseating knots at the look on Kieran's face.

"Sparda's," Kieran said, and placed his hand on Nero's shoulder. "We were meant to be there to stop it with you and your kin as our generals, and Sparda at the forefront."

"You're saying that the demon world is going to attack the human world?" Nero asked.

Kieran said grimly, "Nero, the human realm has become the new demon realm."

"What are you implying?" Nero asked, shrugging his hand off.

"Did the girl tell you nothing?" Kieran sighed heavily. "This safehouse - this realm, if you can call it that - in which we find ourselves this very moment is not subject to time. It is infinite and eternal, it has no substance."

"How long have I been here?" Nero felt his breath ice in his chest as the truth settled around him in steel claws.

Kieran studied him carefully. "You've been gone from Fortuna for near a year, the last we checked. Time does not wait for us outside of these walls. The human world is not what it once was when we brought you here."

"I have to get to Kyrie," Nero said. His heart was rampaging through his body and fear kicked through his blood.

"We have her under our watch," Kieran said. "She is surrounded and protected and watched by our people, as she has been from the moment you two first lay eyes on each other. She will not be harmed..."

"Then bring her _here_!" Nero barked.

"We can't," Kieran said, and knocked on a door at the end of the bridge. "Not without exposing our spies. We will keep her safe but to attempt to remove her will bring attention to her. We do not want to give our enemy any more ammunition to use against us than they already have. You understand this, don't you?"

Nero clenched his fists in silent fury as concern wrecked through him. "Then what do you suggest I do, just sit by and watch until you bring to life another faulty Sparda wannabe?"

Kieran knocked again, giving Nero an incredulous smile.

"Who is it?" a muffled voice called from the other side.

"Kieran. I have a general here who would like some peace of mind," Kieran called back.

"Send him in," the reply came.

Kieran opened the door and gestured Nero inside. "Why don't you go have a look? Maybe, if you don't feel like too much of a fool afterward, you would like to join us in the board room for a full report on our position and progress. Go on, kid."

He grabbed Nero by the neck of his shirt and held him back for a second. "Oh, and don't mention anything about war. You do not want to get him started on that." With that, Kieran pushed Nero inside and closed the door behind him with a firm click.

Nero steadied himself and cautiously ventured further into the room. The walls were all glass panelled, looking out across the underground city, and there were two black leather couches facing toward the view. Nero glanced around the room uncertainly - there was a bed, another en-suite, and a couple of cupboards. Aside from that the room was bare. His footsteps were silenced on the thick soft carpet. He froze when a hand appeared above one of the couches, and a long, slender finger twitched in a coaxing manner.

"Here," the other occupant said, lazily propping himself up as Nero slowly rounded the couch to face him.

For what felt like a very long time, all Nero could do was stare. Until the astonishment became too much for him to bear and he sank down on the opposite couch. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head as if to clear it before squinting at the person in absolute shock. The man wore a simple black vest, much like the one Nero was sure he'd seen Vergil wearing, and a matching pair of trousers. It was his face that had Nero's head reeling in disbelief, however. It was as though he was looking at Dante - or Vergil - but the features were far too perfect, too defined, to the disorienting extent that Nero found himself unable to focus on any one feature for more than a second. His eyes darted across the man's face before finally, mercifully, Nero managed to tear his gaze from the demonic eyes that held him trapped.

"You're Sparda?" Nero asked in a small, whispery voice. He had to clear his throat and repeat the question louder, embarrassed at his own reaction.

"Do you know anyone else as good looking as me?" The man said, and offered a lopsided smile when Nero chanced another look at him.

Nero shook his head. Sparda chuckled, and rose to his feet. He was intimidating in length, and part of Nero's mind acknowledged the terror it evoked in him when he watched Sparda walk away. He moved like a predator on the prowl, every step silent and precise, but with a languid grace that was wrong for his muscular build. Although he couldn't explain it, Nero felt like the man was watching him even with his back turned. When Sparda returned to the couch, it was with two goblets filled to the rim with wine. He handed one to Nero and stretched himself out on the couch, propping his feet up on the armrest. Nero noticed his feet were bare.

"It looks like you need it," Sparda said, swirling the liquid in his own goblet before taking a sip.

Nero forced himself to stop staring at his feet and took several deep gulps of wine. It was surprisingly sweet, with a bitter after taste, and he felt its effect an instant later like a mean kick in the back of the head. "Wow."

"The best red wine of our time," Sparda said.

Nero blinked to keep focussed, and looked at the man once more. His head was starting to swim but surprisingly it made it easier for him to look Sparda in the eye. "You're Sparda."

"I believe we have established who I am the first time you mentioned it," Sparda said good-naturedly. He finished his wine and pursed his lips together, tilting his head to the side as he stared right back at Nero. "Kieran said you are one of my generals."

"They said you're in the final stage of resurrection," Nero said, bewildered. "So if you're alive and stuff, what is the final stage?"

"That'd be my memory," Sparda said, tapping his temple with a finger. "According to those Mr. Know-it-Alls, I have a lot that I still need to remember. So, what's your name, son?"

"I'm Nero. I think I'm related to you," Nero said.

"Impossible," Sparda laughed. "You must be mistaken."

"Well I've had people try to kill me and use me because they believed I'm a descendant of Sparda. I mean...how many Sparda's are out there, right?"

"How could you possibly be related to me?" Sparda asked, furrowing his brow.

"I... think Vergil is my father," Nero said, staring down at his goblet as he said the words.

"Who's Vergil?"

Nero blinked, and slowly looked up at the man across from him. "Your son."

"I have a son?" Sparda asked, stunned. "Well...I don't remember that part."

"You have two. They're twins," Nero said, unsure whether he ought to carry on or shut up.

"Well, well," Sparda said thoughtfully, placing his goblet on the floor and wringing his hands together. "I apologize, I don't know what to say."

"Did you know that those people out there are using your powers?"

"They are? How?" Sparda asked, caught off guard.

"I...one little girl used it to intervene in a fight, and Vergil used it to block off Dante's bullets..." Nero stopped when Sparda started to shake his head.

"No, that was me. I've made it a rule that there will be no physical violence between my people, and I have enforced that rule myself," Sparda said with a faint smirk. "My power is unattainable. None have adequate skill or knowledge to wield it, no one but me."

"You put a spell on this place then?" Nero asked as Vergil's mocking reply in the weapons room suddenly made sense. "I should have seen that one coming."

"You were sent to me because you are in need of explanations, correct?" Sparda asked, folding his arms across his chest as he relaxed back into the couch.

Nero shrugged. "You can start by explaining how it's possible that you're real."

Sparda contemplated for a second before giving a wave of dismissal. "My scientists and sorcerers will be able to help you out on that one. Next question."

"Do you know what's happening out there?" Nero asked, twirling his empty goblet between his fingers.

"Of course. Mundus is going to come back with a vengeance, and attempt to exterminate billions before enslaving what remains of mankind, and rule over the new realm as the Emperor of All Things Powerful and Demented," Sparda said in disgusted mockery. "What he doesn't count on is that I...," his eyes lifted to Nero, and he licked his lips, "_we_ are going to be there waiting to give him the official 'you shall not pass' speech, and then make sure he gets the message clearly."

"You don't know yet," Nero said, surprised. "You didn't hear the siren go off?"

"I must have been sleeping," Sparda said, and paused suddenly. "Siren, you say?"

"Kieran said war is breaking out in the human world right now," Nero frowned. "Why didn't they tell you?"

"I don't like to be disturbed when I'm tired," Sparda said, and smoothed his platinum blonde hair back into slick perfection. "War, huh? Let me tell you a thing or two about war, Nero."


	10. Chapter 10: Jaded

**The Order of Sparda continues, dear readers! I must admit, it's getting much harder for me to rein in how many chapters I upload at a time. By this point, my fingers are itching to start doing my portion of the writing for this incredible tale. I probably should before I upload the rest of Clairavance's chapters, so that I don't leave you all hanging too long afterwards. **

**Anyway, here we go! You know the routine by now. ;)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own "The Order of Sparda"-it belongs to Clairavance; I have adopted the story from her. All characters belong to Capcom, except for any OCs Clairavance created, such as the members of Ramy and Kieran.**

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**Chapter 10: Level 10: Jaded**

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"War," Sparda said seriously, "is comprised of strategy, intellect, and skill. If you know your enemy then you won't underestimate him. If you know yourself, you have nothing to fear. War is also based on deception."

Nero leaned back and rubbed his forehead slowly. "All I'm interested in is how to win this damn war and get Kyrie out of there."

Sparda pursed his lips. He didn't speak again until Nero dropped his hand to his side and their eyes met. "My people are right in the middle of hell this very moment, though their force is small. A couple thousand, at most. They are some of the best soldiers to ever grace the face of this world, and there is no doubt in my mind that our enemy is unknowingly suppressing them. Though, my men are putting up the farce of inactivity. They slave away, they take the beatings, the abuse..."

"How do you know that?" Nero interrupted, unsettled by what he could sense in the other man. "Before I told you war broke out two minutes ago, you didn't know about any of it."

"I know my men," Sparda said with an edge to his voice. His pale blue eyes turned icy and dangerous. He licked his lips, and gestured to Nero. "Now listen well, son. When you are able to attack, you must appear to be unable."

"Why?" Nero asked.

"You can't play poker and expect to win when the other players can see all of your cards," Sparda said.

"You're comparing war to a poker game?" Nero asked carefully.

"I'm using it as an example," Sparda said sharply.

"Not a very good example. Dante cheats at poker."

"There's nothing wrong with having a card up your sleeve every once in a while," Sparda said. "But you cheat only as a last resort, when you've run out of hands to play. You have to put on a poker face and bluff your way through it when the need for it calls."

"Okay, can we skip the poker part and just get to the point?" Nero asked, shaking his head in mild confusion.

"My point is that you must be deceiving in every tactic and every strategy you execute. When we are near the enemy we must make them believe we are far away, and when we are far away we must feign proximity to our enemy. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Deceive the enemy. Gotcha," Nero said, leaning forward with his arms on his knees when a knock came at the door.

"Who is it?" Sparda called out irately.

"Kieran."

"Get in here," Sparda called and muttered something in an archaic language. Nero got the impression from the way Sparda spat the words out that he was swearing. "The most important thing you must remember is that you should modify your plans when circumstances are favourable to do so. If you throw your opponent off and make it impossible for them to predict your next move, you will bring confusion to their leader and fear to their men."

Nero tilted his head to the side. "That sounds like something Dante told me before. He said he strategizes on the go. I thought he meant he was just winging it," Nero said, clenching his hands together. He noticed his arm glowing a bright, deep blue, throbbing with fierce purple streaks. His gaze moved from his arm to Kieran, who had come to stand beside the couch with curiosity on his face, and finally fixed on Sparda.

"We're going to have to fix that for you," Sparda nodded at Nero's arm with a deep scowl, and glanced at Kieran before Nero could speak up. "Bring me my sword."

"I thought I warned you not to speak of war in the presence of our Lord," Kieran said, glaring at Nero in displeasure, and nodded at Sparda. "What for, if you don't mind my asking?"

"So I can stab the boy to death," Sparda said. "Who is the subordinate here? My business with the sword is of no concern to you."

"Of course not, my lord," Kieran sighed deeply. "I will bring it to you right away, but I came to fetch Nero."

"Nero and I are busy. He'll come with you later."

"My lord, if I do not return to the board room with Nero in five minutes, I do believe Dante will come kick the door in and attempt to shoot at us. Or so he threatened," Kieran protested.

"Go tell him I'll be waiting," Sparda said harshly, before turning to Nero. "Now there are five major idiots in warfare, Nero. There will be the reckless idiot that will cause destruction. With reckless aggression comes error in combat. Keep aware of your opponent and don't hesitate to strike them down when they present you the chance. Then there is the coward, the fool who becomes flustered in the face of defeat and attempts to run away from confrontation. Set after them and show them no mercy. Next you have the kind-hearted idiot who worries too much over his men and will be foolish enough to stand up and fight to protect them. They are blinded by their own incompetence. Then there are the idiots who are all about honour and would rather die than have their honour shamed. Do them a favour and put them out of their shame fast. And lastly, there are the temperamental idiots who grow outraged when you insult them."

"I know a few of those," Nero said as images of Echidna and Bael ran through his mind. He shuddered at the last memory in disgust. "What are you telling me all this for, though?"

"You said you wanted to go get Kyrie out of there, didn't you?" Sparda said. "You ought to be prepared and know what you'll be put up against."

Nero pinched his eyes closed as the words rolled through his mind. "Okay. But look, if you're planning on sending the cavalry with me..."

"You won't be alone," Sparda interrupted. "I've told you my men are already in place. You don't need to enlist their aid because they will recognize you and act as they deem necessary, and as their general you will be able to make use of them."

"Yeah, but I'm better on my own," Nero countered. "I don't need an army to slow me down. All I want is to get in and get Kyrie out. Nothing else matters but saving her."

Sparda's stone cold expression faltered and he cast a forlorn look down at his feet. He pressed his hands together and took a long moment before meeting Nero's gaze head on. There was an overwhelming silence in the room.

Kieran's heavy sigh sounded through the room, and he spoke in a quiet, careful voice. "Do you not know the legend of Sparda?"

Nero blinked at him, momentarily confused. "Of course I do."

"You know then that Sparda," Kieran said, casting a look that was akin to sympathy at Sparda's back, before turning furious eyes on Nero, "had the heart to love a human being."

"Leave us," Sparda said curtly.

Kieran obeyed without hesitation. When the door shut, Sparda got up to refill his goblet with wine. With his back still turned to Nero, he said, "I know where your mind is at. I have loved," Sparda sighed the last word despondently, and Nero looked away when Sparda turned to him. "I would have fought off all of hell again and again if it could have saved her."

Sparda came to lean against the wall beside Nero, slowly drinking the wine. "She was my first memory when I woke up here, and for a long time she was my only memory, and I was pissed off."

Nero glanced at him, surprised. "Because you were being kept here?"

"Because no one was willing to tell me where she was," Sparda shook his head. "No one wanted to burden me with the truth. I know what it is to lose someone infinitely precious, and I know if I let you walk out of here without giving you fair warning of what you're going to be walking into, you'll find yourself standing in my shoes in the end."

"Alright. You've got my full attention," Nero said.

Sparda flashed a ghost of a smile. "Good."


	11. Chapter 11: Knight

**Hello everyone! And so I continue uploading "The Order of Sparda". I'm eager to start my portion, as you may have guessed from the frequency of the chapter updates. It actually would have been quicker, but I was having issues with the site's "Manage Stories" function.**

** If you're new to this story-welcome! You have a writer by the name of Clairavance to thank for this literary work. If you're a returning fan of Clair's story-welcome back! **

**Guest (Chalice Cabriel): Thank you for your kind words. Clairavance and I were originally supposed to finish the story together by collaborating. I was pretty sad when she decided she wasn't going to write for it anymore, but she adopted it out to me. Here's hoping I do her work justice, when I start writing for it. I'm sure she'll be glad to hear that others are still enjoying her work. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own "The Order of Sparda"; it belongs to the wonderful writer, Clairavance. All characters, except for her OCs in the Order, are the property of Capcom.**

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**Chapter 11: Level 11: Knight**

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Nero watched the elder man pace the long window before them, his vision shifting in and out of focus. The 'plan' Sparda had very vaguely cued him in on was still milling through his mind, but the details were becoming foggy. He placed down his goblet, and grimaced when his stomach made a sickening twist.

"I think I had one too many," Nero said quietly, closing his eyes and pressing his fist to his forehead. Why had he gone overboard with the wine?

"Then you've had just enough," Sparda said.

Nero blinked up at him and let out a frustrated sigh when the world around him swam. "I'm no use to anyone-" he cut himself off with a hiccup and let out an angry growl. "Damn it!"

Sparda let out a chuckle, and switched the sword he held to his other hand. "You're alright, Nero."

"When... when did you get your sword? Ah," Nero mumbled, shaking his head in bewilderment.

"Maybe you did have one too many," Sparda said thoughtfully, and shifted into a menacing stance. "Let's have a look."

"What?" Nero squinted up at him. He barely rolled out of the way in time when the massive blade came swinging down at him, and he ended up on his backside beside the couch, staring at Sparda as if he'd gone crazy. "Hey, what the hell!"

"Draw your sword, boy," Sparda ordered in a nasty voice, "Don't make me tell you twice."

Nero scrambled to his feet and managed to dodge another swing aimed at him before he had Red Queen firmly in his grasp. "What are you doing?"

"I'm testing your reflexes," Sparda said, stabbing and swiping at him in quick succession.

Nero barely deflected a few of the blows and moved out of the way to miss what would have been fatal hits. "What for?" he grunted out as he ducked beneath another swing and launched his own string of hits. Several of them hit their target but he might as well have missed - Sparda didn't so much as flinch.

"What do you think?" Sparda laughed, and arched his eyebrows in surprise when Nero furiously tossed his sword aside.

"You want a fight, then come get it!" Nero snarled.

Sparda puckered his lips together and tilted his head to the side, contemplatively observing him before shrugging. "Alright, then."

The violent strokes aimed at him from that point on were consistent and merciless; too fast for his eyes to follow but his body reacted instinctively to avoid contact, and he met the sudden and powerful onslaught with his own fiery aggression. Wind whistled in his ears as they moved in the insane dance of combat before, finally, he brought his Devil Arm up to parry the hits. Only then did Nero notice that Sparda had tossed his own sword aside. Sparda held Nero's arm in a steel lock, and they glared at one another across the brimming purple light.

"Good enough," Sparda said tightly.

"Good enough?" Nero repeated angrily.

Sparda's mouth set into a grim line. "Things are going to get a bit messy, and this might hurt. But you'll understand, I'm sure."

"What-" Nero started. His breath caught in shock when he noticed the familiar long, slender sword that manifested in Sparda's free hand. He acted a second too late. He barely managed to draw a breath and inch away when the sharp blade cut into him. Sparda pulled away, and Nero staggered back helplessly, staring down at the Yamato in total disbelief and confusion. He collapsed to his knees dizzily as his shirt became wet and cold with blood.

"Sorry, Nero. This had to be done."

"Fuck you," Nero choked out. Sparda paused, and did a roundabout kick that sent Yamato's blade piercing straight through Nero's chest up to the hilt. Nero hit the floor hard. The last thing he remembered was the scalding burn of the wound.

When he came to, the sword was still jammed into his body, and he was still on the floor. But he was breathing, and when Nero sat up it was to see Sparda reclining lazily on the couch, watching him curiously.

"You should pull that out of you. Your body can't heal itself until you do," Sparda said in response to his death glare.

Nero gritted his teeth and obeyed. Sure enough, as soon as he got the blade out of his chest, he could breathe easier, and the raw pain disappeared within seconds. He climbed to his feet slowly, breathless and still woozy. "You... I'm going to...kick your...what did you do to me?" Nero broke off, dropping the weapon and staring down at his arms. His entire body was burning - he couldn't decide whether it was a good or a bad burning. There was something beneath his skin. No, inside of him, burning its way to the surface from a place he didn't know existed. Overwhelming, dangerous, powerful; something _else _was clawing its way out of him.

Sparda leaned forward on his knees, and smiled. "I've awakened your devil."

The burning erupted in an explosion of worrisome proportions. His mind nearly blanked out at the sheer force that engulfed his body; waves of deep blue rolled off of him and crashed into the walls, shaking the foundations of the building around him, and his body itself was no longer anything human. Thick red armour-like skin with deep blue veins crossed both his arms, his body became segmented, and his fingers turned into claws. Blue wisps uncoiled from his flesh. The change tore an involuntary scream from his throat, and the scream itself was of frightening rumbling demonic nature, yet it was still his voice.

It lasted for less than a minute before everything changed back, like a switch had been flicked. Nero leaned back against the wall weakly in an attempt to keep himself upright, and he turned accusing eyes on the elder.

"You're going to pay for this," Nero growled, pushing away from the wall furiously.

"Well which would you have preferred, son? To remain in a halfway form, or to be fully devil and," Sparda indicated toward his arm with his sword, "Fully human?"

Nero lifted his arm, the devil bringer, and stared at the smooth milky skin and normal, human fingers. He lifted his other arm and stared at them in horror. "But...that was my weapon!"

Sparda shook his head and frowned deeply. "You're more powerful now than you were before. If you practice hard, you just might become the next dark knight."

_"But my arm!_" Nero shouted angrily.

"You can get it back with the whole package. It's called a devil trigger," Sparda said curtly, sheathing his sword as he walked toward the door. "As I said, you're more powerful now. Better equipped to succeed in the task we're about to undertake."

"Wait! How the hell do I devil trigger?" Nero demanded, snatching up Yamato and Red Queen and storming after Sparda.

"Oh," Sparda said, and sent him a cocky smirk. "It'll come to you when the time is right."

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**Ending Note: Now, I know there may be some confusion; when I first read this, I had questions, myself. When it comes to Nero's DT, I think Clairavance was running with the theory that Nero's devil had only partially awakened in the events of DMC4. Hence why it unfolds the way it does, here. This is conjecture on my part though, as from what I recall, she couldn't remember the reasoning behind Sparda being the one to awaken his devil in this chapter. I'll have to ask her about this again, sometime. Anyway, please feel free to review. :)**


	12. Chapter 12: Limbo

**I'm back, and rather quickly I might add, since I just uploaded two chapters, back-to-back. **

**We delve ever deeper into this story; now Nero's true mission has officially begun, in which we get to see just how ugly the underbelly truly is. **

**Incidentally, this also the last chapter written by Clairavance in full; the beginning of chapter 13 will be in her writing (I'll explain when I upload in few more days, or so), but from then on out, it will be my work. I'm not going to lie; I am both excited and beyond worried. We'll see how it turns out.**

**So, please enjoy, and feel free to review. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own "The Order of Sparda"; it belongs to Clairavance, whom adopted it out to me. The characters of Ramy, Kieran, and any other Order members she wrote about, along with specific demons such as Aziel, are her OCs. The rest of the characters belong to Capcom.**

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**Chapter 12: Level 12: Limbo**

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Everything was rushed in a strange, calm fashion. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, and all eyes were on them as Sparda himself led the way through the maze of corridors. Nero half expected people to bow down as they walked past.

"Hey, big guy. Where are we going?" Nero asked, frowning when he spotted Dante far off in one of the rooms they passed, chilling out with what looked a lot like a beer.

"Where are _you_ going, you mean?" Sparda chuckled.

"Nero! Good luck out there!" Ramy appeared by his side like a shadow from the dark.

Nero glanced from one to the other. "You're sending me out there alone?"

"You know the plan. Infiltrate their system, sabotage their mission, spread anarchy-"

"But no one gave me any background on their system!"

"-Kid, you're family, aren't you? I'm pretty sure you've got the right stuff up here to get the job done," Sparda said, ticking him on the side of the head.

"You seem to have a lot of trust in me," Nero said, arching an eyebrow and dodging out of Sparda's reach.

"Call it intuition," Sparda said. They came to a large steel wall, and Ramy went ahead to push the buttons on a dial-pad.

"Like I said, you won't be alone. There's backup if you need it."

"I won't need it," Nero muttered.

"All the better," Sparda said with half a smirk. "Listen to your gut. And when you see her, remember," he gave Nero's shoulder a squeeze and narrowed his eyes, "truth is the first casualty of war."

"I hope you're ready for this," Ramy said, turning to face them when the wall flashed brightly. The light faded and Nero found himself staring through a portal to what looked like Fortuna.

"See you later, kid," Sparda said.

Nero gave them one final look before he marched through the portal. The gravity of it was odd and would have made him stumble if he hadn't been firm with where he placed his feet. The portal sucked shut behind him, and he was left in a place that resembled something like a wasteland. Nero stopped short to really take in his surroundings. It was definitely Fortuna - the old cathedral loomed up to his side, with a huge chunk missing from its dome. The rest was all devastation; broken glass, toppled and rusted cars, and decomposing remains of animal and human alike.

He was in the midst of staring at one half-skeletal corpse, dreading that he might find Kyrie like that, when an enormous shadow fell over him. Nero's eyes widened at it and he looked up, just in time to see a colossal body of hair and legs sprawling down toward him.

He rolled out of the way and tried to grab at it with the devil bringer, and stared at his pale outstretched hand in dismay instead.

"Damn it!"

He barely dodged out of the way in time as the monstrous demon landed with all eight legs extended. It had eyes all over its body, and all of the thousands of little black beady eyes were trained on Nero.

He drew Red Queen the instant the demon launched three of its sharp-edged legs at him. He deflected one blow and sliced through another, but wasn't fast enough to block the third. It grazed off his side and straight through his coat.

The demon spider recoiled at having lost a leg. Nero watched irately as it began to regenerate another in its place. Well, that wasn't good. He revved Red Queen, and jerked his head up when more demons fell from the sky.

A massive web had been spun over the area, gleaming silver in the smoky light. He noticed several cocoons of what looked like people having been caught and spun. Nero clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the descending cluster of spiders.

"Looks like the exterminator has arrived," he ground out and wove into the mass of giant bodies with swift and deadly intent.

The trick was knowing his enemy. They were new – he'd never encountered this type of demons before and had no training in how to deal with them – thus he had to locate their weakness before he could destroy them. Simply chopping off their legs was pointless, as was stabbing them in the eyes. It weakened them, gave him the upper hand, but they still followed his every move.

Their bodies were armoured and difficult to break through, and Nero had several close calls before he discovered the octagon shaped soft spot beneath their bellies. He drove Red Queen through them, revved and ignited the spiders from the inside.

And all the while, his gaze kept wandering to the biggest of the lot that was slowly descending toward the ground. He retracted his sword from the last of the demons on the ground, waiting for it to explode into black dust around him, and waiting for the head of the group to make its move.

He didn't have to wait long. It moved faster than Nero had thought its mass would allow, and he found himself pinned down by the point of a leg. It wasn't as sharp as the others had been, but it was heavy and painfully slowly digging deeper into his ribs. The spider lowered itself, bringing its eyes closer to Nero's face. Nero screamed out as the pressure drove the leg right through his skin and deep into his flesh.

The demon brought forth its fangs – clumsy, hairy things as long and thick as his arms. The acidity of the venom on the edges was strong enough to make his eyes burn. Nero reached for that instinctive will power, the one that used to trigger the devil bringer into action, and saw the world around him momentarily turn blue.

He guessed it must have been his devil trigger, because the big demon had retreated very quickly with a strange, high pitched shriek. It fell over onto its side, obviously hurt. Nero wasted no time to finish the job, and was very soon the only moving thing in the war-laden land. He put Red Queen away and admired his arms – his devil bringer had returned, with a friend to match.

Sweet.

He tilted his head back and surveyed the web far above him, weighing between the options of trying to see if anyone was still alive and sparing himself the disappointment and anger of finding no survivors.

He had to pick his way carefully through the debris of cars, concrete, planks and uprooted trees. The earth was scorched as far as the eye could see, and the sky looked like it had caught fire with dark, bellowing clouds of smoke lingering behind. The stifling smell of sulphur tainted everything around him. Nero hauled himself up the tower to the broken and empty reservoir, and his hopes that Kyrie may have somehow escaped whatever catastrophe had taken place crashed down around him. The city was beyond repair. There were no buildings left standing, not even the foundations or any walls were left intact.

He squinted at movement on the horizon, and without further prompting, he sailed down the tower and headed dead straight toward it. It turned out to be a legion of mannequin type demons that, it turned out, were very hostile. Nero mowed them down one by one with ease, allowing a small number of them to escape. He hung back for a few moments, watching the demons scatter across the land, and sent one last look back at the destroyed city before he set after them.

The demons led him to the coast further down the island. There, he found, a colony of demons had made port. His footsteps thudded across the lowered drawbridge and his gaze missed nothing.

Corpses were strung up – some whole, some missing limbs – and displayed along the side of the road like an open house butchery. Demons stomped, slithered and blundered through the streets. It was almost claustrophobic with the amount of bodies swarming the place. It had to be some kind of market place, Nero realised, when a demon tried to catch his attention by waving a dried arm in his face.

Nero shoved it aside and continued on through the crowd, keeping his guard up.

"Fresh slaves! All negotiations considered, all offers accepted. Get in now before they're going, going, gone!" one humanoid-looking demon was hollering from the top of a stack of crates.

Nero paused and changed his course toward it. The demon noticed him and leapt from the crates, rising itself as though it was going to talk business. "Interested, are you?"

He was wrong. It didn't look humanoid at all. The demon's arms were too long and too thin, and it had a lizard-like tail that looked like it could hurt someone.

"Slaves, you said?" Nero asked. He knew this was probably not the best way to go about things, but he had to see for himself. What if Kyrie was between the slaves this demon scum was talking about? Nero didn't like 'what if's' when it came to Kyrie.

"Three Power Orbs for one," the demon stipulated.

Nero frowned and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Tch…let me see them first."

"You have an obligation to buy if you want to 'see'."

Nero pursed his lips grimly. "Done."

He followed the demon – who introduced itself as Aziel – down one of the docking piers to where a large ship was moored in the murky ocean water. They crossed the bridge onto the deck, and Nero wondered exactly how he was going to 'pay' this guy, considering the Order had taken everything off him and all he'd regained were his weapons.

He was led past demons, that looked very similar to the angelos Sanctus had had working for him, standing guard in various places on board the ship. They went down a step ladder, deeper into the ship's bowels, and finally came to a door.

Aziel flashed him a sharp teethed grin and threw the door open with a flourish.

The smell that hit Nero almost made him gag. He lifted his arm and tried to block the stench of faeces and urine and decay as he went further into the large room. It was dark, but he could see well enough. There were people of all ages and genders, standing in corners, sitting on the excrement coated floor, lying down as if they'd simply fainted or dropped dead on the spot. It was eerily silent. He heard some shuffle, some whisper, but none of them seemed to even be aware that he was there.

None of them were Kyrie.

Nero stood for a long, awful moment in the middle of the room, surveying the neglect and torment these poor people were being put through. He couldn't leave them like that. He had to find a way to free them somehow. Half of them looked near death as it was – logic told him that they wouldn't still be alive if he chose to come back another time to save them.

There was a raging debate going on in his mind as he took it all in. He couldn't defeat all the angelos out on the deck, not without risking injury to himself and instant death to these people. He didn't want to cause a scene that would have the entire colony of demons out for his blood.

Finally, going on a whim, Nero retraced his steps to the door.

"Well? See any you like?" Aziel asked coaxingly.

Nero frowned back down into the room. He had to do this. Truth was the first casualty of war, Sparda said. And this was, beyond a doubt, the biggest war the demon realm would ever face.

"All of them," Nero said, surprising the demon. He noted the angelos react to response as well.

"Are you sure you can afford that many?" he asked, wringing his hands together.

"No, but Mundus can," Nero said and looked at the demon challengingly.

"M-Mundus wants these bottom-feeders?" Aziel stammered.

"Did I stutter?" Nero said sarcastically.

"I thought you looked new around here," Aziel protested. "I should have realised you were one of Mundus' grunts… I mean, messengers."

Nero spread his arms and made a slight bow. "Now, if we can get this show on the road?"

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**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :) As stated in the beginning note, the rest of it will be my work, from here on out. When that occurs, let me know what you think.**


	13. Chapter 13: Mundus

**Hello, everybody! Thank you all for waiting patiently as I worked on my first chapter for this story. I apologize for the wait; hopefully future updates will come a bit more quickly.**

**As you all know, this is Clairavance's story; the first few paragraphs of this chapter are hers, but my writing takes over from here on out. The plot is also hers; she provided me with notes for each chapter, encouraging me to chop and change as needed. For the most part, I plan on keeping this as close to how she envisioned it as possible. That being said, a lot of it is going to be my interpretation of what she wanted done. I can only hope I do it justice. D:**

**Without further ado!**

**Disclaimer: "The Order of Sparda" comes from the mind of Clairavance, along with her OCs Ramy, Kieran, and other members of the Order. All other characters are the property of Capcom.**

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**Chapter 13: Level 13: Mundus**

He'd thought that it would be difficult to carry through with his bluff, but it proved to be far too easy. Aziel had the angelos cuff and chain the slaves and lead them off board the ship. No one asked what Mundus needed them for, nor did anyone question whether Nero was legit or not.

On top of that, he didn't need to worry about finding Mundus. The demons were all too willing to get him out of there, even going as far as organising a fleet to 'keep the slaves in check', and an enormous black steed with flaming blue mane and glowing eyes for Nero as transport.

As another large, brawny demon was saddling the horse and making minor adjustments to the reins, Nero caught the demon's eye per chance. For a second they merely looked at one another, and then, briefly, the demon's gaze darted toward the west before meeting Nero's again evenly. He gave the horse an affectionate pat against the neck and walked away.

Nero turned toward the western horizon, and smirked. Sparda certainly had things under control. He hauled himself onto the back of the horse in one quick, fluid motion, and spoke soothingly to his mount as it shifted restlessly beneath his weight. Slipping both feet into the stirrups, he was surprised to note that the flaming mane of the horse didn't burn him.

_It must be because of my devil form. _He concluded, gathering the reins in his glowing red and blue claws. He hadn't had much experience in riding horses, but he _did_ recall snippets that Kyrie had taught him years ago when she had been taking riding lessons. Letting out a steadying breath, he softly clucked his tongue at the horse, finishing with a slight flick of the reins. To his surprise and immense relief, the horse moved into a steady trot, keeping pace with the demon fleet on either side of him as they escorted the slaves. It seemed the steed knew exactly where they needed to go, as though this particular journey was one it made quite often.

_It's a good thing Sparda took all of this into account, _he thought, settling himself into the saddle more comfortably, _without the horse's handler, I'd be a sitting duck, right about now._

After some time had passed, the fleet maintaining the same brisk pace, Nero cleared his throat, catching the eye of the nearest demon escort on his right. Much like the merchant Aziel, he too was very reptilian in appearance, the vertical pupils of his yellow eyes contracting as he met Nero's even gaze.

The parched, leathery skin of his lips pulled back into a slight, knowing smile, revealing white, serrated fangs. Keeping step with the flaming horse, he leaned toward Nero conspiratorially, the part devil's eyes widening somewhat as he did the same.

"The portal leading to Mundus' stronghold lies deep within the Mitis Forest," his voice was low, a sibilant hiss coming from between his teeth as he continued, "continue up the cliff's face until you come upon a shrine."

Nero nodded his head once in understanding. He was familiar with the area the demon spoke of.

"Once there," the demon glanced around furtively to make sure no one else was listening before returning his gaze to Nero, "say these words, and the portal will open." He whispered as closely as he could into Nero's ear, saying it twice to ensure he got it.

Nero nodded once again, giving the demon a sidelong glance as he straightened in the saddle once again. "How many of us are there?" He murmured out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes flicking over each one of the slaves trailing in front of and beside the horse, absently listening to the rattle of their chains with every step that they took.

The demon chuckled softly, the sound barely a sigh. "Enough," Was his simple answer, before glancing up at Nero again. "Once we reach the forest, I will command the fleet to return to the market; the rest is up to you."

"Thanks." Nero didn't know how many of the fleet's members were Sparda's men, but he couldn't help marvelling at how thorough and efficient they were. Just how much of Mundus' forces actually belonged to the Dark Knight, himself?

_I guess I'll just have to find out for myself._

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"So Nero," Mundus leaned back in his throne, his arms draped languidly over the thick, golden arm rests on either side as he studied the criss-crossing of the blue and red armour the young demon wore. No, not _wore_; in fact, it seemed to be part of his body.

His red eyes roved over each scaled segment, his gaze lingering on the whitish-blue glowing cracks in between each one before moving up to the humanoid face, taking note of the silvery white wisps of hair poking out from beneath a scaled helm.

"You brought me these…_slaves_…as a sign of your allegiance to me? Is this correct?" He studied the young demon for a long moment, vaguely aware of the human slaves moving restlessly behind the blue and red devil, their feet shuffling against the granite flooring of the large throne room.

"Yes sir," Nero replied, his red eyes flashing as he continued, "I wish to become one of your Generals."

The throne room echoed as Mundus' assembled forces erupted into gales of laughter, varying from sibilant snickering to deep, throaty chuckles amidst cat-calls and jeering. Nero's gaze flicked around the room, a scowl darkening his face as his eyes met the face of each one of Mundus' soldiers.

The Demon King looked on in wry amusement, lazily gesturing with his hand for all of those assembled to quiet down. Once the last of the snickers had subsided, he returned his gaze to Nero, grinning when he noticed the rifts between the young devil's scales glowing more fiercely than they had been before. _Interesting._

"I see. What makes you think you are worthy of being part of my army, let alone one of my Generals?" Something about the young devil made him uneasy. There was something very familiar about the energy rippling across his form, the rebellious glint in his eyes…

"I'm a skilled fighter. I've faced impossible odds and came out on top every single time. In short, I'd be an asset to you."

Mundus stroked his chin thoughtfully, his gaze sweeping around the room as his soldiers murmured amongst themselves, many of them sneering at the newcomer's back in both amusement and contempt.

"If you are as strong as you claim to be, then perhaps a little test is in order." The Demon King noted the slight flicker of surprise that passed over the young demon's visage, before his expression set into one of stony resolution. "Abaddon, step forward." He commanded, summoning one of the soldiers with the long, pale fingers of his right hand in a coaxing manner.

A large, muscular demon stepped forward, clad in dull brass armour stained with flecks of blood. This was Mundus' most trusted General, a full-blooded devil that was very humanoid in appearance, except for the golden sheen emanating from his flawless skin and the striking violet of his eyes.

"Yes, my Lord?" His voice was a rich baritone, the sound vibrating all around the spacious, circular room.

Mundus smirked as his gaze fell on Nero once again, the young devil feigning indifference at the sizable difference between Abaddon and himself. After all, how could he _not_ be bluffing? Abaddon was nearly twice his height, and more than three times his girth! Surely the boy wasn't so foolish as to believe he could best Abaddon…

"I wish to test our young friend here," Mundus explained, leaning forward with his eyes fixated on Nero, "you are to battle him in the coliseum. If he survives, perhaps _then_ we will consider his proposal."

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Nero circled around the arena, tilting his head back as he took in the expansive layout of the coliseum. His boots crunched over shale, the stones cracked and broken beneath his feet, giving way to dirt and gravel between each slab. A warm draught washed over him, flowing from the grated archway he'd entered through only moments before. Several more of these doorways were spaced all around the coliseum's ground level, a few of which appeared to have captives and strange beasts imprisoned behind them.

_No doubt intended to be tonight's entertainment. _Nero thought sourly, tearing his gaze away from the pleading eyes of one of the prisoners to look at the spectators' stands that formed the arena's walls. As far as he could tell, the stands were made of the same drab, grey stone as the arena floor; long benches were carved into the surface forming dozens of rows from top to bottom, left to right. The only exception was what could only be Mundus' private box, carved dead centre on the right side of the coliseum. A strange, greenish barrier seemed to encase the box, forcing Nero to squint in order to see Mundus through the thick, wavering veil of energy. The Demon King sat poised upon the same throne Nero had seen him sitting in before, a guard on either side of him, though the part devil doubted the Demon King needed them, at all.

The mixed crowd of demons fidgeting restlessly in their seats suddenly erupted into cheers, Nero swivelling around to look across the opposite side of the arena at Abaddon. The General entered through one of the archways with a wave to the spectators, the iron grating slamming shut behind him as he slowly made his way over to a weapon's rack against the wall. It was then that Nero realized he hadn't chosen his weapon yet; Red Queen and Blue Rose had been confiscated from him just before he'd been led down to the coliseum, leaving him nearly defenceless.

His gaze flitted toward the walls on either side of where he'd entered, a large, rusted, double-sided axe catching his eye. It was then that he became aware that Abaddon was rapidly bearing down on him, swinging a spiked club overhead as he let loose a battle cry. Diving forward into a roll, Nero pulled the axe from the weapon's rack just as Abaddon swung the club down toward him, the part devil stopping the weapon just in time with axe's handle.

Gritting his teeth, he shoved upward with all his might, forcing Abaddon to stumble backward with a snarl. Not wasting another second, Nero jumped to his feet, and swung the axe toward Abaddon's midsection, the General jerking backward at the last second, causing Nero to slice at nothing but empty air.

The axe was top heavy and difficult to wield, but the part devil was no stranger to improvising. The battle commenced between the two combatants, Abaddon wildly swinging the club to and fro in order to force Nero back, the part devil deflecting each swing with the axe's blade.

The part devil backed off as the club came down, slamming into the ground with enough force to send debris flying. The crowd roared their approval, the stands erupting into a frenzy of cheers as Nero darted to the side to avoid the spiked weapon once again. The forward momentum seemed to pull Abaddon temporarily off-balance, exposing his back to his opponent. Nero took advantage of this, leaving a thin gash across the General's back as he swung the axe around and leaped sideways simultaneously. Abaddon's pained cry was cut short, turning into a growl as he turned hatred-filled violet eyes on the part devil.

Nero grunted as the General's attacks became more savage, each strike of the club against the axe vibrating painfully up his arms. Clenching his teeth, he stood his ground, waiting for Abaddon to give him an opening. He didn't have long; the General raised the club high above his head, preparing to strike. As a result, he left his right side completely open. Dodging to the side, Nero gripped the axe in both hands, and swung it around with all his might.

The blade collided with Abaddon's ribcage. The sickening squelch of flesh being rendered from bone met the part devil's ears, the General's guttural screams reverberating off of the arena's walls. A hush seemed to fall over the crowd, as though they were transfixed during this unprecedented turn of events. Abaddon's cries seemed to go on forever, Nero wincing against the harsh sound as he pulled the axe free with a groan. He let the weapon fall to the ground, the sharp rattle of metal nothing in comparison to the on-going howls.

Just when Nero thought it was over, the General's pained screams changed; deep, throaty snarling took its place more savage than before, Abaddon clutching his wounded side as he glared venomous daggers at the younger devil.

Nero didn't know where he had found the strength to go on, and he didn't have time to find out; Abaddon picked up both the club and the axe, lunging toward him with such speed, he'd barely managed to roll off to the side before the weapons came down one after the other where he'd just been standing. Panting, Nero's gaze met the General's just in time to see the weapons coming down toward him again. Without a second thought, Nero thrust his left arm forward, a ghostly version of his hand exploding forth to collide with Abaddon.

The General hurtled backward head over heels before slamming into the coliseum wall, a long, jagged crack snaking its way up the stone upon impact. Nero looked at his left arm, flabbergasted; it seemed that when Sparda had fully awakened his inner devil, he had bestowed the power of a _second_ Devil Bringer upon the part devil.

_Well, I'll be damned…_

Returning his attention to his fallen opponent, he had to squint through the billowing dust in order to make out Abaddon's unconscious form lying amongst the rubble. His chest heaving, Nero looked around the stands, seeing the mixture of shock and uncertainty crossing the demonic spectators' faces. Turning all the way around, his gaze stopped when they landed on Mundus. The Demon King had risen from his throne, his mouth set into a grim line as his eyes met Nero's.

_Fuck._

Was this it? Had Mundus seen through his ploy, after all? By his expression, Nero could only conclude that he was furious his best General had been defeated so easily. Any moment now, the guards would come to retrieve him, and then…

Mundus' face split into a toothy grin then, his hands coming together again and again, slowly at first, but eventually picking up speed. It was only once their King began applauding that the rest of the onlookers felt safe to do the same. Cheers exploded all around the coliseum, punctuated by the sound of enthusiastic clapping and stomping feet, the spectators' armour rattling with every movement.

The tension in Nero's chest slowly ebbed away, relief washing over him in waves as he took in the sight of all of Mundus' minions praising his name.

"Congratulations," Mundus' voice cut through the din, his voice amplified in order to be heard above all the noise, "from this moment forward, you are now my General. If you serve me well my young friend, you shall be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams." His eyes glittered, forcing Nero to suppress a shudder.

He didn't want to think about what should happen if he _didn't_ serve Mundus well. Instead, his face split into a fake smile, showing off his impressive demonic fangs.

"As you wish, my Lord." He finished with a courtly bow, grimacing at himself in disgust.

_You owe me one, Sparda._

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***Whew* Please feel free to review, and let me know what you think. :) Concrit welcomed.**


	14. Chapter 14: Nightfall

**Hello, readers!**

**First and foremost, a thousand apologies for how long I took on updating this story. I won't make any excuses, but suffice it to say, things have been busier for me, as of late. In any case, I'm sorry for leaving you all hanging for what...two, three weeks? Geez. I'd promise that the next chapter will be up sooner, but I honestly don't know how long it will take.**

**At any rate, please enjoy! Let me know what you think of my work so far. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. It is the property of Capcom. This story originally comes from the mind of Clairavance.**

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**Chapter 14: Level 14: Nightfall**

The sound of boots crunching over asphalt echoed down the deserted alley ways, intermingling with the sound of terrified whimpering and whispered threats. Nero choked back the rage boiling within him, doing his best to avert his gaze as three of Mundus' high ranking soldiers violated a young woman behind a dumpster. The soldiers, currently off-duty, barely spared him a glance before they continued defiling the woman in question, yanking her head back by the roots of her matted blonde hair as they licked and groped every exposed inch of her skin.

As her pale green eyes met his, Nero forced himself to continue on, swallowing against the lump in his throat as her pleas for mercy followed him to the next street over. He had a job to do, and he couldn't afford to let the suffering of one person outweigh the lives of the many. And right now, his job was to make sure Mundus' soldiers were fulfilling their duties, since the Demon Emperor couldn't be bothered to check on them, himself. But, there was an even more pressing task set upon him, courtesy of the Order. Infiltrating Mundus' forces was just the tip of the iceberg; he also needed to sniff out his allies, and coordinate with them to sow discord within the demon army.

This is what Nero had been working at for the last eight days, in fact. Fortunately, some of Sparda's 'inside men' knew exactly who he was and saved him the trouble of having to look for them. However, many others, assuming they'd heard about him to begin with, clearly were as uninformed of his appearance as he was of theirs. Naturally, this made it rather difficult, since neither side could risk tipping their hands to the wrong people.

Fortunately for him, he'd managed to find three of the Order's insiders, already. Even more fortunate was the fact that since Sparda had unlocked his full potential, Nero could remain in his devil form almost indefinitely. He only required a few moments of rest in between devil triggers, which he took advantage of every time he found himself completely alone. Despite the fact that many demons took on human guises when they came to the human world, he wasn't willing to take the chance of being recognized in his true form by any of Mundus' men, lest the whole mission go up in smoke.

As Nero rounded the corner, his gaze locked with a pair of mottled amber eyes. Giving a start, he huffed in relief when he realized it was only Baphomet. Baphomet was one of Sparda's inside men, the first one Nero had managed to find, in fact. The partial goat demon nodded at him in greeting, casting a furtive glance behind him before talking with the young part devil.

"How are things coming along?" Nero asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked meaningfully at his friend.

"Better than I'd expected," Baphomet replied, absently stroking the black and grey streaks of fur along his jaw, "suffice it to say Bune and Agares have had a…_falling out_."

Nero chuckled at this. Though he'd only known Baphomet for a few days, he had learned a great deal about the goat demon, and one of the things he'd learned was that Baphomet had a 'go big or go home' attitude about things. It really wasn't any wonder that he served as one of Sparda's most trusted agents.

"How about you, my white-haired friend," Baphomet asked coyly, his gruff voice bleating slightly as he chuckled, "any luck so far?"

"I heard from Forneus and Phenex," Nero scratched his nose, casting a sharp glance around before continuing on, "they're working on an escape plan for the prisoners, but well…to be frank, it's not coming along too well."

"I can just imagine," Baphomet huffed, casting a wary glance as three lower class soldiers stumbled across the street, singing drunkenly. They passed beneath a halo of light cast from the street lamp above them, their voices fading as they turned down a dark alley. "For all the drunken, loud-mouthed idiots around here, Mundus certainly has tight security."

"My thoughts exactly," Nero lamented, his lips pulling into a rueful smile, "on the bright side, I've got Squads three and seven questioning their allegiance to the Demon _King._" His tone finished with a contemptuous sneer, Baphomet letting out a low chuckle with a shake of his head.

"Oh? And just how did you manage _that_, I wonder?"

"I may or may not have suggested that Mundus plans to dispose of them…" Nero grinned openly now, relief washing over him now that the street was deserted once again.

"Good work. Sparda will be pleased to hear of your progress," Baphomet patted Nero on the shoulder with a furry hand, his eyes crinkling warmly as he stared at the part devil, "but for now, let us return to our duties."

Nero waved as the goat demon strode away, his arm falling limply at his side. "I'll report to you in two days' time. Keep in touch."

The rest of Nero's rounds that evening went by uneventfully-for the most part. A fight had broken out within a group of drunken lower ranking soldiers, and when he found out what they were fighting over, he'd had no choice but to get involved.

"Hey!" He shouted, shoving through the crowd with the commanding air of one of Mundus' elite. "What the hell is going on, here?"

The demons parted like the sea before him, a mixture of crimson and yellow eyes peering fearfully at him from beneath skewed helms. Once he'd reached the centre of the group, his eyes fell on the form of a young boy, swathed in dirty rags. The boy had dark hair, though Nero couldn't tell if it was brown or black, due to the amount of filth covering him. The one thing that stood out about him were a pair of emerald green eyes, currently wide with fear as he looked up at the General.

"Forgive us, General." One of the soldiers spoke up, his words coming out a sibilant hiss.

Nero turned to face the one who had spoken, his reddened eyes coming to rest on a surprisingly humanoid demon-apart from the forked tongue poking out from between his fangs. Nero drew himself up to his full height, allowing his demonic aura to ripple across his armour menacingly.

"I believe I asked you a question." he growled, "What the hell is going on, here?"

The demon sputtered for a moment, gulping as Nero narrowed his eyes to dangerous slits. After a few more failed attempts, he finally choked out. "Well sir, we were just deciding who would get to keep the boy as a prize."

Nero took a moment to digest this, his gaze flicking over to where the boy still lay huddled on the ground. He couldn't have been more than thirteen, though the creases beneath his eyes might have fooled anyone else into believing he was older. Observing the many abrasions covering the boy's scrawny legs and arms, Nero could only begin to imagine the hell he'd been put through.

Drawing in a deep breath, he whirled around, his gaze sweeping over every last soldier surrounding him on the street corner. "Well, consider your decision made for you," he announced, swiftly pulling the boy to his feet with a firm tug to his upper arm, "_I'll_ be the one to keep him."

When it seemed his statement would be met with resistance, Nero lowered his voice to the most threatening growl he could muster. "If you have a problem with it, feel free to take it up with Mundus." His threat had the desired effect, the soldiers drawing back from him with angry mutters.

Without another word, Nero turned on his heel and stalked away, dragging the human boy behind him. For what felt like an eternity, the only sounds that met the part devil's ears was the slapping of the boy's feet against pavement, intermingled with his laboured breathing as he tried to keep pace with the General. Nero felt sorry for the boy, and almost considered slowing down, or at the very least, loosening his grip. But, he couldn't afford being seen by any of Mundus' soldiers; what would he tell Mundus, if his mercy toward a human were to be brought to light?

As they made their way down into what once had been the Residential District-now completely a shambles-Nero cast a wary glance around them, before pinning the boy firmly against the crumbling wall of one of the apartments. Seeing the boy's wide-eyed, pleading gaze, his own softened.

"Look," Nero whispered, lightening his touch on the boy's shoulders, "I'm not going to hurt you, okay? But I need you to keep quiet. Think you can do that?"

The boy stared at him in confusion, but nodded vigorously all the same.

"Unfortunately, I can't just let you go." Nero continued on, glancing around quickly before staring directly into the boy's eyes. "It won't be pretty, but I have to bring you to one of the pits. Believe me, you'll fare a lot better in there, than you would with those assholes."

"I-I don't understand," the boy stammered, his voice high with fright, "who are you?"

Nero let out a huff, dropping his gaze. When he looked back up, the fear had left the boy's face; dawning lit from deep within his green eyes, his lips slowly curling up into a relieved smile.

"I know you," he breathed, his eyes welling with tears, "you're him, aren't you?"

It was Nero's turn to be confused, his eyes widening slightly before he remembered that he was supposed to be one of Mundus' Generals. "What the hell are you talking about?" He grunted.

"You're the one who will deliver us from the Devil's reign."

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**Finally done! I hope you enjoyed it. Please review.**


	15. Chapter 15: Ode

**Greetings, everyone! Thank you so much for your patience. Here's hoping it paid off.**

**The "Ode to Sparda" used here was written by someone known as "Seth Sparda" back in 2010 at Clairavance's request when she first started writing this story. I take no credit for it.**

**Disclaimer: The Order of Sparda originally belongs to Clairavance; the characters-except for her OCs, and the few demons I have mentioned, courtesy of various lore-belong to Capcom.**

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**Chapter 15: Level 15: Ode**

Nero's reply was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, the echoing of several pairs of boots causing him to snap his head back in the direction of what was once the Business District.

"We have to move." He grabbed hold of the boy's wrist, all pretence forgotten as he yanked him toward the wreckage of the apartments to their right, pulling him along between the two slabs of cinderblock that remained of the building's entrance.

"W-Why are we going this-" The boy sputtered behind him, Nero tightening his grip when the boy tripped over a scrap of wood hidden deep within the rubble. Continuing to pull the boy along behind him toward the back of the foundation, he spotted where it opened to reveal a dirt path leading to one of the many abandoned mines scattered all over Fortuna.

"The fewer guards I have to talk to, the better." Nero explained, letting out a sigh as the patrolling guards' footfalls faded away. "Besides, this is a shortcut to the pits."

"Oh." The boy's sullen response caught Nero off-guard, the part devil turning to regard the haggard teenager in his grasp.

Releasing the boy's wrist, he crossed his arms over his chest with an impatient huff.

"What's the matter? I told you you'd be safer in one of the pits, than with those low-ranking scumbags. Would you have preferred being their plaything?"

The boy looked up at Nero then, a peculiar look in his eyes. "Well no, but-"

"But nothing," Nero declared, grabbing hold of the boy's sleeve, "now, get your ass in gear. I don't have all day."

The boy did as he was told. Not that Nero gave him a much of a choice, given the fact that he had an iron grip on him.

The duo continued on, making their way into the mine shafts in silence, Nero's eyes quickly adjusting to the dim lighting provided by the yellow lanterns lining the stone walls. Water trickled beneath the broken mining tracks, breaking apart into thin rivulets that reminded the part devil of skeletal fingers. Up ahead, he could hear the faint whistling of air coming from one of the neighbouring tunnels, and quickened his pace.

The boy continued to stumble along behind him, his breathing shallow and quick.

"It won't be much longer," Nero said over his shoulder, a bubble of guilt worming its way up through his stomach and into his chest at the sight of the boy's ragged appearance. "We'll get you cleaned up and fed when we get there."

The boy simply nodded his head in understanding, though Nero could swear he'd caught a glimpse of something in the boy's eyes before he'd turned back around. Mentally shrugging it off, He continued to lead the youth deeper into the mines, the sound of running water getting louder.

Turning right, he stepped into a large, well-lit cavernous space. Sweeping one arm around, he gestured toward the many rod-iron bars lining the stone walls.

"This is Pit C-12." Nero explained, turning his gaze back to the boy. "Out of the twenty-eight prison holds Lord Mundus owns, this is the only one someone like you has a chance of surviving in."

The boy looked around, his mouth agape as he took in the dozens of prisoners detained behind the bars, all of them watching quietly with curious expressions. When his emerald eyes returned to Nero, it took the part devil a great deal of willpower to maintain his mien of indifference; the boy's expression was nearly inscrutable, as though he was torn between hopefulness and despair.

He opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but quickly snapped it shut, his eyes widening fearfully as he stared at something over Nero's shoulder. Sensing the demonic presence as it manifested behind him, Nero smiled. Turning, he nodded his head in greeting toward the newcomer.

"Ah, Lieutenant Phenex, I wondered where you were hiding."

The tall, thin man before him smiled warmly in greeting, his amber eyes flickering with amusement when he took notice of the boy standing behind Nero. Phenex was one of Sparda's men, and though Nero respected Baphomet quite a bit, he found Phenex to be even more remarkable than his goat-like friend. Though Phenex's demonic form was in fact, a phoenix, the legendary golden bird of fire with a hypnotic singing voice, he preferred to take a human guise.

"Come now, General. When have you ever known me to hide?" His tone was light, teasing. Running a hand through his short, auburn locks, he tilted his chin toward the boy. "And who do we have, here?"

Nero glanced over his shoulder, faltering when he realized he hadn't bothered to learn the boy's name.

Returning his gaze to Phenex, his lips curled into a sardonic grin. "Another human I picked up off of the _Emperor's finest_."

Phenex let out a low chuckle. "Careful, General. If you keep scooping strays up like this, someone is bound to get suspicious."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you." Nero waved a hand dismissively. "Would you just take him, already? I've got work to do."

Phenex obliged, quickly moving to take Nero's place as the part devil made his way back toward the mine shafts. "Don't worry, I'll get him cleaned up." To the boy he said, "It's your lucky break, kid. We were just about to serve dinner."

"Wait!"

Hearing the boy's desperate plea, Nero halted in his tracks, peering over his shoulder to meet the boy's frightened gaze.

"You didn't answer me, before…a-are you him? Are you the one they've been talking about? Please, tell me!"

Nero contemplated the boy's question. Several minutes passed, as he mulled over the possibilities. Truthfully, he didn't know if he was the one the boy had mentioned; the one who would 'deliver them from the Devil's reign', as he had originally put it. Furthermore, where had these rumours come from, anyway? Could it be…?

_Kyrie._

He felt a slight pang in his chest as he thought of the red-haired songstress. He had been to more than half of the pits, but he had found no sign of Kyrie, anywhere. Wherever she was being kept was somewhere he didn't have ease of access to. Wondering if she was okay, worrying that Mundus' soldiers were mistreating her… it was enough to make him go mad!

But, could the rumours be coming from her?

Wherever they were coming from, it created something of a double-edged sword. On one hand, it had instilled hope in the people, given them a glimmer of light in an otherwise dark time. On the other, if the rumours were going from prisoner-to-prisoner, Mundus' soldiers were bound to catch wind of it, sooner or later.

_Assuming they haven't, already._

Turning around, Nero caught Phenex's eye. If he revealed the truth to the prisoners here, it was entirely possible that Phenex would be able to convince them to keep it under wraps. After all, the success of their mission, of freeing all the prisoners, heavily depended on his ability to remain incognito, as well as the rest of Sparda's inside men.

Phenex seemed to understand his silence, for he gave a sharp nod.

Closing his eyes, Nero drew in a deep breath, willing his demonic energy to disperse. As the last of the energy faded away, a series of gasps and whispers met his ears. Opening his eyes, he looked around the cavern, his gaze sweeping over the faces of each one of the prisoners, all betraying a mixture of hope and wonder as they stared back at him. His gaze came to rest on the boy, his emerald eyes seeming to light up from within as his lips pulled into a wide grin.

"I knew it…" He breathed, his eyes beginning to fill with tears.

Nero cleared his throat, casting an uncomfortable look in Phenex's direction.

"Alright, that's enough. Come on, let's get you situated, shall we?" Phenex grabbed hold of the boy, and gently began steering him toward one of the cells to the far right. "As for the rest of you; we're going to be having a long, _long_ talk over dinner. You get me?"

Giving Nero one last look, he set to work on prepping the boy for his stay in the pit. Grinning to himself, Nero turned on his heel, and made his way back into the tunnels. Stopping halfway down, he closed his eyes, and devil triggered, the surge of power burning hot through his veins as it came to the surface. Quickly studying himself, he let out a satisfied grunt at seeing his armour's return. As he continued on his way, voices floated up to him from the prison cells, harmoniously singing as one, causing him to pause in his tracks once again.

_Lend us an ear,_

_Slayer of devils!_

_Awaken justice once again!_

_Dark knight with heart,_

_Hear us!_

_Dark knight with soul,_

_Save us!_

_Dark knight with courage,_

_Lend us… _

_Your strength!_

_"Those without wine"_

_Must face your sword, _

_And taste your wrath,_

_And fear your power!_

_May we fall_

_On some great day,_

_With freedom's flag _

_Flying high!_

_We trust in you,_

_Oh warrior strong and bold;_

_Lead us to the path of glory,_

_Awaken justice once more…_

As the prisoners began singing the first verse once again, Nero shook his head in wry amusement, a sigh ghosting his lips as he resumed his departure. As he made his way past the dim, flickering lights of the tunnels, there was no doubt in his mind that Kyrie was the one behind the rumours.

After all, it was a song Nero had heard once before, several years ago. In fact, it was the same song Kyrie had sung the very first time she'd been appointed as Songstress for The Festival of the Sword…

_Hang in there Kyrie, I'll save you...No matter what it takes, I'm going to take that bastard Mundus down, once and for all. Just wait a little longer…_

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**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to review. :) Concrit is welcome.**


	16. Chapter 16: Profession

**Huzzah! I'm back with another chapter, and things are starting to heat up!**

**Thanks to those of you who continue to read and review this story; I hope I continue to keep you interested as the story continues on.**

**Disclaimer: The Order of Sparda originally comes from the mind of Clairavance. Chapter 13 and on are my work. All characters, except for the previously mentioned OCs-belong to Capcom.**

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**Chapter 16: Level 16: Profession**

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since Nero had gone undercover, and had succeeded Abaddon as Mundus' newest General. In that time, he had secured more than a dozen prisoners, handing them over to Phenex where they'd be well looked after. He had familiarized himself with the vast majority of Mundus' best men, and had met three of his undercover allies.

Three weeks of learning where each and every prison was located, every soldiers barracks, every dark corner where some low-ranking filth was causing untold misery to their human 'pets'. Nero had collected as much data as he could in all this time, working in private with his cohorts to figure out some way to overthrow Mundus' forces.

In those three weeks, not once had he been expected to dispose of a single human life-until now.

Drawing a deep breath through his nose, Nero leveled his gaze with the Private.

"Where are these revolutionaries, now?" He asked, feigning boredom as he stifled a practiced yawn.

The Private, a short demon with a canine appearance, looked skyward as though trying to recall the report word-for-word. "Latest intelligence reports state that there was a small gathering of humans at Port Caerula. The merchant, Aziel, overheard their plot to infiltrate Lord Mundus' stronghold as he was packing up for the evening. Shortly after, several of his slave ships were destroyed; it's complete pandemonium, sir."

_Goddamn it._

Resisting the urge to growl in frustration, the part devil weighed his options. Strictly speaking, he didn't have to _kill_ any of the revolutionaries. He could have them detained for questioning…

But therein lay a problem; who would question them? He sure as hell wasn't going to leave them to Marbas' tender mercies. Marbas was a member of Mundus' Elite Stealth Force, and a skilled interrogator of great repute. He had a penchant for extracting information from his captives in the most devious, agonizing ways imaginable. Nero couldn't allow these rebels to be questioned in good conscience by a demon such as Marbas; perhaps he could request that _he_ be allowed to interrogate the prisoners?

Yes, that's what he would do. He could-

"Sir?"

Nero was brought out of his musings by the Private, the latter shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"What should I tell Lord Mundus, sir?" The Private repeated himself, his grey eyes flicking around nervously, as though he was afraid to make direct eye contact with a General of the Demon King.

"Thank you, Private. Tell Lord Mundus that I'm taking a small force to capture the rebels in question. Inform him that I will report to him directly when the prisoners are in custody. That will be all."

The Private saluted, spun on his heel, and trotted down the forest path to relay the message to his superior, who would in turn relay the message to the Demon King.

Without wasting another second, Nero turned to his second in a command. The grey-skinned humanoid met his gaze expectantly, his murky green eyes unblinking as he awaited his superior's orders.

"Captain, assemble squad six and brief them on our mission. We're to capture these humans, _only_. No prisoner casualties. Understood?"

The Captain nodded, and brought his fist to his chest in a salute.

"Good. Now get a move on; our departure is in fifteen minutes."

* * *

Nero stopped dead in his tracks, his squad doing the same as they followed his gaze over the horizon. Black plumes of smoke drifted over the port, so thick that Nero had trouble seeing down the usually arid breezeway separating Port Caerula from Fortuna's former Residential District.

"Remember your orders," he commanded the troops, his gaze flicking over the twenty assembled soldiers, "capture _only_. Captain Orias, take the lead."

"Yes sir," The Captain obliged, turning to his charges. "You heard the General; move out!" he barked.

Nero steeled himself at the ripple of power that coursed through the surrounding demons, each one of them calling upon their true forms with an enthusiastic battle cry. If not for the fact that he remained in his devil form, the electrical current of energy assuredly would have knocked him clear off of his feet.

As the soldiers rushed into the fray, Nero flanked them, casting a furtive glance all around as he cleared the breezeway. The smoke was much thicker here, coiling like a great, black serpent all around him. An eerie, orange glow refracted off of the smoke, the intense heat stinging the part devil's eyes as the flames licked across the gasoline-drenched docks. He was so busy trying to locate the focal point of the battle, he nearly didn't see the flames closing in behind him.

Feeling the heat intensifying at the backs of his legs, Nero dove forward into a somersault, clearing the flames just as they closed the gap between him and the breezeway. Peering around, he realized that he'd lost sight of his troops. Heaving a sigh, he slowly made his way down the concrete walkway, pondering his next course of action as he went.

_Well, so much for Plan A. But on the other hand…_

Now that he was separated from his squad, he just might be able to get a more candid look at the revolutionaries laying siege to the Port. Now all he had to do was locate them in the chaos they'd created…

_Just another cakewalk, _He mused, wrinkling his nose at the pungent aroma the gasoline gave off as it drifted up from the piers. The rebels had no doubt used it to light the fuses in their handmade explosives-probably Molotov cocktails, Nero figured. Just about anyone-however amateur-could be taught to make one.

Seeing that the flames showed no signs of lessening, he bolted toward the loading dock-or so he hoped that's where he was headed. With visibility being at an all-time low, he'd be lucky if he didn't run clear off the dock, and straight into the water!

As the sounds of the scuffle got louder, he was certain he was headed in the right direction. Edging toward the mixed shouts of his soldiers and the human rebels, he let out a sigh of relief when his foot came into contact with the ramp leading toward the loading area. Slowly making his way down the slick wood, he could just make out the faces of human and demon alike, the opposing factions fighting just on the far side of the look-out tower.

Unfortunately for the humans, they were at a severe disadvantage; whatever weapons they'd had upon entering the battle, most had either been confiscated by his troops, or lost in the confusion. Casting a quick glance around, he was satisfied to see that his men were following orders; aside from a few bloody noses and some cuts and bruises, the humans were virtually unscathed, the soldiers binding their wrists behind their backs. However, several of the human rebels continued to resist, giving a few of the less skilled soldiers a run for their money with some particularly solid kicks and punches. If it wouldn't have brought him under immediate suspicion, Nero would have allowed himself a good laugh at the sight.

Deciding he'd spectated long enough, Nero crept up behind the nearest human, and wrapped one arm around the man's chest, pinning his arms at his sides while he placed the edge of Red Queen against the man's throat, ever-so-lightly.

When the man made to grab something at his hip, Nero pressed his sword more firmly against his neck.

"I wouldn't, if I were you." He rumbled in warning, his voice low enough that only he and his captive could hear. "Now, who's your leader?"

"Like I'm going to tell you, you demon bastard!"

Nero huffed irritably, his voice dropping down to a whisper. "Look, I need you and your buddies to come quietly, you got me? Believe it or not, I'm actually on your side."

The man let out a snort of disgust, instinctively trying to peer over his shoulder at the General holding him captive. "Right, I just bet you are."

Finally succeeded in meeting Nero's gaze, the man's eyes widened, his breath hitching in his throat upon seeing his demonic form. The traces of bravado from moments ago melted away, a flicker of genuine surprise lighting his face.

_What the hell is that about? _The part devil wondered.

"Believe what you want, it doesn't matter to me one way or another." Nero retorted instead, "But when the time comes, I will overthrow Mundus; you'd benefit a great deal from siding with me, when that happens."

Realizing that his men had secured the rest of the human rebels, Nero pulled a set of cuffs from his belt, and secured the man's wrist behind his back. "You're just going to have to trust me on this one," He continued on in a hurried tone, aware that his soldiers were looking to him for further instruction, "I'll explain everything on the way. If you really want to save your friends and take Mundus down in the process, you're gonna have to keep your mouth shut about all this. Got it?"

The man seemed to consider this for a moment before giving a single, stiff nod in compliance.

"Good." To his troops, Nero hollered, "Alright, men. We bring these scumbags to Lord Mundus' palace for questioning. Now, move out!"

* * *

Nero settled into a chair across from the man he'd captured, a simple pine table the only thing between them.

It had been three hours since he'd arrived at Mundus' stronghold with the revolutionaries. The Demon King, much to Nero's surprise, had readily allowed the General the pleasure of interrogating the prisoners. The part devil supposed he owed that to the fervor in which he'd sworn he'd extract 'information from the human filth-by any means necessary'. Mundus seemed to have liked that part, especially.

And so, here he was in a dimly lit room that passed for an interrogation cell, surrounded by heavily enforced steel walls.

"So, it's true then." The man looked at Nero, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at the part devil in disbelief.

"Yes." Was Nero's simple reply as he leaned back in his seat, studying the short, brawny man in front of him that he'd come to learn was named Evan.

Evan ran a calloused hand through what remained of his greying brown hair, his eyes unfocused as he grappled with the information Nero had given him. Looking up at the part devil-who had temporarily returned to his normal form-he continued on in a choked voice.

"Sparda is alive, truly? Where is he? When will he mobilize his forces? When will he-"

Nero leaned forward, clamping a hand over Evan's mouth as the man's voice rose in pitch.

"Keep it down!" He hissed between clenched teeth. "The last thing I need is for you to blow my cover."

When Evan sheepishly nodded in understanding, Nero removed his hand, heaving a sigh as he ran a hand through his own silvery-white hair.

"As to your questions, he's currently in repair, so to speak. I don't know when, but my cohorts and I will receive word when he's ready. Until then, you and your men are to remain quiet."

Rising from his seat, he glanced back over his shoulder. "I'm going to make sure you guys are placed in Mundus' maximum security pit. For one, there are plenty of people in there that could use your help, and in turn, will be of help to you when the time comes."

Evan looked up at Nero blankly, setting his bound hands on the table top as he shifted in his seat.

"How do you mean, exactly?"

"It's simple; when Sparda's forces finally arrive, one of his inside men will be sent to fetch you. Once you and your men are free, you're in charge of assisting the other prisoners in escaping, while we take down Mundus' soldiers, one-by-one."

"Couldn't you and your allies help them escape?" Evan asked, his face pale and drawn as the magnitude of the situation began to weigh on him.

Nero turned to face him then, his eyes narrowing. "So, let me get this straight; you were all set to attack Mundus' legion of soldiers without any hesitation whatsoever, but you weren't prepared to undertake a rescue mission in the process?"

"Well, of course we were going to rescue-"

"Good," Nero cut him off, drawing closer to the man, his voice conspiratorial. "Because that is exactly what we need you to do. There aren't enough of us to fulfill both missions. Hence why I'm asking you for your help; you and your men have the fighting know-how. You'll be able to get the rest of the people out, while we take care of the rest."

At the overwhelming look of fear on the man's face, Nero hastily added, "Don't worry; two of my allies are fully prepared to help. We've been trying to work out a prisoner escape plan for weeks; now that we have you and your men on the inside, we have the means to pull it off. So, will you help us?"

Evan's gaze dropped to the table, his brow furrowed as he pondered over Nero's words.

Seeing that his words were beginning to take effect, the part devil crept closer, and crouched in front of Evan so that they were at eye level.

"Please." His voice was barely above a whisper, "the success of this mission depends on having all the help we can get."

Evan's gaze locked with Nero's, his eyebrows drawing together as his mouth twisted into a frown of uncertainty. When the part devil refused to break eye contact, the man dropped his gaze with a defeated sigh.

"Alright, alright…we'll do it. I'll make sure my men are ready. Just promise me that you'll do whatever it takes to keep us alive."

Clapping a hand on Evan's shoulder, Nero rose to his feet, and gave the man a solemn nod.

"You have my word." He assured him, closing his eyes as he brought his devil form to the surface with a gasp. Feeling the familiar warmth washing over his whole body, he opened his eyes, and studied his armour.

Taking quick strides over to the metal door, he gave two sharp knocks, indicating to the guard outside that he was finished.

Turning back to Evan, he gave him another nod. "One of my allies is the acting Warden of the maximum security cells. He'll make sure your people are well cared for."

Hearing the shifting of tumblers as the guard unlocked the door, Nero turned back around, and wrenched the door open. Stepping out into the brightly lit hall painted in hues of red and gold, he turned to the guard.

"Put this human meat sack with the others, for now. We will see what fate Lord Mundus decides for him and his companions."

"As you wish, sir."

Studying the guard's swine-like appearance a moment longer, Nero gave a stiff nod, and spun on his heel.

Making his way down the many twists and turns of the long corridor, he barely took notice of the sconces lining the wall, casting shadows over each door that he passed along the way. Quickening his steps as he drew closer to Mundus' throne room, he had to fight against the smirk twitching at the corners of his lips. Coming to a stop at a set of large, black, double-doors, he exhaled.

_It's show time._

Pushing the doors open, he entered the room, acutely aware of the eyes of each and every soldier following him as he took long, purposeful strides toward the Demon King's throne. Reaching the bottom step that led up to Mundus' throne, he dropped down to one knee and bowed his head.

"Milord, I bring news."

"You may rise." Mundus replied, his tone conveying boredom.

Nero did as instructed, drawing up to his full height as he stared into Mundus' fiery eyes. It took every shred of willpower he possessed not to look away from the Demon King's disconcerting gaze. Clearing his throat, he gave Mundus the story he'd been rehearsing since catching the revolutionaries.

"The leader of the rebellion confessed to having an underground encampment within the mines at Ferrum Hills. I was unable to extract a name from him, but it seems he and his followers were acting on the orders of another demon."

Mundus sat forward in his throne, the flashing of his eyes indicating that Nero had his full attention. "How sure of this are you?"

"One-hundred percent, Milord." Nero replied, resisting the urge to shift under Mundus' intense scrutiny. "He was consistent during each method of interrogation I employed; it seems whoever this demon is, the rebels haven't met him, directly. A liaise met with them twice a week under the demon's orders."

"If this is true, then we will have to look into the matter. You and your squad are hereby ordered to investigate Ferrum Hills, to see if there is any legitimacy to the prisoner's claims."

That should be easy enough; after all, it was true that Evan and his companions had an encampment at Ferrum Hills. Evan had assured him that evidence of their residency could be found there, which would, in turn, prove at least that much of their story to be truth.

"Yes sir," Nero nodded, "as they pose such a great potential risk to us, what shall become of the prisoners? Shall I have them executed, sir?"

Even as he said it, Nero cringed inwardly. If Mundus agreed, their blood would be on his hands. Before the Emperor could open his mouth to reply, the part devil tilted his head as though giving the decision serious thought.

"Although…if the prisoner's claims are true and a demon _is_ responsible for their actions, then perhaps we could use their capture to our advantage…"

Mundus' lips pulled up into a wry grin. "I'm all ears, General."

Fighting the grin that threatened to reveal him for the imposter he was, Nero bowed his head, making it appear for all to see as though he was trying to find just the right way to deliver his proposal.

_Jackpot!_

Regaining his composure, he continued on.

"With all due respect, Milord, whoever this demon is, he must stand for everything you don't. Therefore, he most likely values their lives. Assuming this is the case-"

Mundus cut him off with a lazy wave of his hand, curling his fingers into a fist as he leaned back in his throne, and rested his chin atop his knuckles.

"Say no more, General. There is indeed merit to your plan. Very well, the prisoners shall be moved to Forneus' cell block."

Without requiring further prompting, three of the guards closest to Nero saluted Mundus, and strode silently from the room to carry out his orders. As the double doors closed behind them, he returned his attention to the Demon King.

"When shall I assemble my forces, sir?"

As Mundus opened his mouth to answer, the double doors crashed open, the hinges squeaking in protest as the doors rebounded off of the stone walls on either side. Mundus' gaze hardened as he stared over Nero's shoulder, the part devil doing the same to see what all the commotion was about.

In strode the Captain from squad twelve, his ivory complexion soaked with perspiration as he hurriedly made his way toward the Demon King.

"Captain Valac! What do you mean by entering my Hall so disrespectfully?" Mundus' voice boomed, forcing Nero to involuntarily flinch from the severity of it.

The Captain, for his part, seemed to pale even further than his complexion allowed, faltering in his steps as he stammered over his answer.

"M-Milord, forgive my intrusion! I meant no disrespect. I-It's just…well you see, sir-"

"Out with it, Captain, or I promise you will face something _far_ worse than a simple demotion…"

"The prisoners in the Quarantined sector, sir!" Captain Valac finally blurted out, "They're revolting!"

* * *

**And so concludes another chapter. Like it? Hate it? Feel free to let me know. :)**


	17. Chapter 17: Quarantine

**Welcome back, everyone. I swear, this chapter took forever and a day to complete. But, now it's here! I hope you all enjoy it; feel free to review when you're done.**

**Disclaimer: Devil May Cry belongs to Capcom; everything else is a mish-mash of mythological characters, and OCs. The Order of Sparda originally comes from the mind of Clairavance.**

* * *

**Chapter 17: Level 17: Quarantine**

Nero mentally cursed at Captain Valac's report.

He had just succeeded in convincing Mundus to keep their most recent prisoners alive as leverage, and not more than a few seconds later, another group of them decided to sign their own death warrants…

This was the _last_ thing he needed!

The atmosphere in the Grand Hall chilled noticeably, each of Mundus' assembled soldiers shifting restlessly and muttering amongst themselves. Nero couldn't stop himself from glancing around, taking in the feverish glimmer of every multi-coloured eye within the room; each demon, from humanoid to reptilian and all those in between, seemed to be exuding bloodlust. Nero could practically smell it rolling off of them, the stench of violent intentions. It was as though they all thirsted for Mundus to choose one of them to deal with the quarantined prisoners.

Swallowing against the panic rising in his throat, Nero tried to focus on the situation at hand. He knew, if Mundus chose any of the others to handle the prisoners, it would end with the blood of countless innocents being spilled. Best case scenario? They'd kill the prisoners quickly; worst-not to mention most likely-case scenario?

Nero didn't even want to consider the countless possibilities; no matter how the other demons 'dealt' with the prisoners, the end result would be the same; far from pretty.

A long, awkward silence fell over the Hall, before Mundus finally deigned to reply to Captain Valac's news.

"Do you mean to tell me," Mundus' eyes flashed, causing the Captain to shrink under the intensity of his stare, "that the men you had stationed in that sector cannot control a handful of lowly, wretched humans?"

Valac mopped at his brow with one pale, pudgy hand, the other flexing nervously at his side as he looked fearfully up at the Demon King. Even from his vantage point, Nero could see the quivering of his dry, cracked lips, his dark purple tongue darting out in a vain attempt to moisten them as he stammered over his answer.

"Well M-Milord, you see…t-the prisoners...m-my men…they were overpowered by them." Captain Valac finished meekly, the officer not even attempting to conceal his terror as his chainmail rattled.

"Inconceivable!" Mundus roared, his fists coming down loudly on the armrests of his throne. "Your men are to report to me, immediately! I want a detailed report from them on what happened…and then we'll see who bears punishment-them, or _you_."

If not for the fact that Captain Valac was ordinarily one of the most arrogant, obnoxious officers under Mundus' command, Nero may have felt a bit sorry for him. But given the amount of times he'd had to 'claim' prisoners from the grotesque, amphibious demon, he was disinclined to show him a shred of sympathy. Mundus could smite him right here and now, for all Nero cared; it would be one less asshole for him to put down, later.

"General," Mundus' voice brought Nero back to the present, the part devil stepping forward to receive whatever orders the Demon King had for him. "You are to relieve Captain Valac's men of their post; I want the entire Quarantined sector lighting our bonfires tonight."

Forcibly repressing unbidden mental images of sizzling, burning flesh, Nero brought his heels smartly together, and saluted the Demon King.

"As you wish, Milord."

* * *

Nero made his way down the long, winding forest path, all the while trying to figure out just what he was going to do once he reached the Quarantine Sector.

No matter how deep undercover he was, there was no way in hell he was going to actually _follow_ Mundus' orders. Therefore, he needed to come up with a plan, and fast.

His boots squelched with each step, the rain from the previous day forming a heavy mist that saturated his scaled armour as he roamed deeper into the woods. The humid air hung around him like a blanket, but thanks to his demonic blood-or perhaps his devil form, in particular-he was barely affected by it.

The sun was beginning to set, its pale, orange light filtering between the lush, green canopy of leaves high above. Further on ahead, Nero could hear the shuffling of footsteps, punctuated by the angry shouts of the Quarantine Sector guards.

_I guess I'd better get a move on. _Nero thought with a sigh, quickening his strides. If he took too long, who knew just how far the guards would take their retaliation?

Weaving between a thick grouping of trees, he pushed the low-hanging branches to either side, revealing a dozen or so guards standing about. Upon further inspection, Nero realized they were milling around a few of the prisoners, no doubt stragglers they had yet to return to the Quarantine pit after their attempt to revolt.

The guards' voices carried across the demon-made clearing, a mixture of guttural threats and jeers reaching Nero's ears.

"On your feet, swine!" One of the guards ordered, hauling a thin, mud-covered girl up by the wrist, grinning cruelly at her pained cries when he nearly popped her wrist out of its socket.

"Did you really think you'd get away with the little stunt you just pulled?" Another one of the guards added, his flat, serpentine nostrils flaring as he stared down at the girl in what Nero could only assume was some sort of twisted amusement.

"You're really in for it now, little girl!" One of the others cackled in a raspy, high-pitched voice. His four, sickeningly yellow eyes pivoted on their stalks, his physical form reminding Nero of a slug as thick, green mucous dripped down his mottled brown flesh.

The girl's eyes darted around frantically, matted brown hair flying every which way as she stared from one guard to another. As the first guard raised his hand, ready to strike, she squeezed her eyes shut, a low whimper escaping her.

All the while, the other guards started to rough up the two male prisoners when they made to help their female companion, bringing the larger of the two down to his knees with a solid kick to the ribs.

Having seen enough, Nero made his way toward the guards with deliberate strides, fixing his glowing, red gaze upon them, each one taking notice of his approach with surprised gasps. The cruel, lustful glints in their eyes quickly turned to fear, the guards hastening to move out of his way as he continued toward the centre of the crowd.

"General!" One of them finally spoke up, quailing slightly when Nero turned to look at him. Unlike most of the company he kept, this one was mostly humanoid in appearance, his skin a pale yellow with brilliant green eyes, and vertical pupils to match. Long, thick raven locks flowed around his shoulders, his appearance vaguely reminiscent of a lion's.

"We didn't know you were coming." The demon continued, sounding almost apologetic.

"Lieutenant Moloch, you and your men are to report to Lord Mundus immediately."

The lieutenant stared at him, dumbfounded. Nero could see the other guards exchanging glances in his peripherals, each one betraying a mixture of confusion and utmost fear.

"But General, what about the prisoners?" Moloch protested, fiddling idly with the iron gauntlets on his wrists.

"They are no longer your concern." Nero declared, the command in his voice leaving no room for argument. "I will not tell you again; report to Lord Mundus at once!"

The guards fumbled to do as they were told, several of them tripping over one another in the process. Nero watched their departure until they vanished from sight, the thick mist enveloping them as the last of the sun's rays faded from the skies.

Turning back to the prisoners, he watched as the two males helped the girl to her feet. One of them looked to be close in age to her; he was of average build with dark, curly hair, and fierce blue eyes. The other was perhaps old enough to be her father; with a thick greying beard, and leathery, tanned skin, Nero could only assume he had been the sort that lived off the fat of the land.

When they caught Nero staring at them, both males moved into defensive positions in front of the girl, identical expressions of defiance lighting their eyes. Despite this, the part devil knew they were more afraid, than anything; and yet, here they stood, more than willing to put their lives on the line to protect their fellow prisoner.

Taking a cautious step forward, Nero held up his hands in the most placating gesture he could manage while still in his devil form.

"Relax. As long as you cooperate, I have no reason to hurt you."

The younger male let out a low growl, his bare feet sliding over the soft dirt as he moved into what Nero could only guess was meant to be a more menacing stance.

"In case it wasn't already abundantly clear," the elder male declared, his voice coming out gruff, "we don't believe you. Tell me, just what do you intend to do with us?"

Nero didn't quite know how to answer; while he had no intentions of disposing of the prisoners as Mundus had ordered, he still had yet to come up with an alternative. It wasn't like he could just return them to their cells, and let them in on the plan like he had done with Evan's group…

And just like that, an idea struck Nero out of the blue, his unintentional exclamation of 'That's it!' startling the trio in front of him. The girl frowned, confusion written all over her face, the men exchanging a worried glance before returning their glares to the part devil.

"Look, I don't have time to explain. You're just going to have to take me at my word when I say that I have no intentions of hurting you."

Before they could do more than squawk in protest, Nero brought both of his demonic arms forward, projecting large, ethereal duplicates of them. Taking advantage of their momentary shock, he grasped the prisoners in the large, ghostly claws, and began escorting them back toward the quarantine pits.

"H-Hey, what are you doing?" The younger man yelped, glancing back at Nero, wide-eyed. Both he and the older man struggled, protesting every step of the way. When the part devil caught the girl's eye, however, he stopped short.

Unlike her companions, the girl didn't wear an expression of either fear or anger. Instead, she seemed to be in deep contemplation, her eyebrows drawn together as she glanced back at him. When her amber eyes widened in recognition, Nero couldn't stop himself from mirroring her reaction.

"You!" The girl breathed, her lips parting.

"You're one of them, too?" Nero asked at the same time, his astonishment causing his grip to vanish along with those of the phantom Devil Bringers.

It was clear from the expressions on the men's faces that they had no idea what was going on between their companion, and the Demon General.

"Oh, praise Sparda!" The girl exclaimed, brushing tendrils of hair from her eyes. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd been found out!"

"So, you are one of his..." Nero declared, crossing his scaly arms over his armoured chest.

"Yes," the girl confirmed with an enthusiastic nod, suddenly moving closer to him, studying his devil form with interest. "You're Nero, right?"

As the girl circled around him, Nero gave his head a shake, trying to clear his muddled thoughts.

Realizing she'd asked him a question, he gave a slight nod. "Uh, yeah…and who are you, exactly?"

The girl went on like she hadn't even heard him, "This is great, she'll be so glad to know you're here!"

"Wait, what? Who will be glad to know I'm here?" He asked, looking at the two men in the hopes that maybe one of them would supply him with an answer.

They looked every bit as dumbfounded as he was, the elder of the two merely shrugging at him, frowning.

Nero gave a start when the girl grabbed hold of his wrist, and began tugging him toward the pits. When he failed to follow her, she looked back at him in mild reproach.

"Well, what are you waiting for? You do want to see her, don't you?"

Nero was on the verge of yelling at the girl in frustration, his right eye beginning to twitch as he restrained himself from giving into the impulse.

"Who are you talking about?" He ground out between his molars, nostrils flaring.

The girl actually had the _audacity_ to laugh. "Well Kyrie, of course!"

* * *

It was all Nero could do to refrain from running to the pits, right then and there. It was as though the last tendrils of darkness that had taken hold of him during these past few weeks, festering deep down inside of him, had started to disperse just at the mention of Kyrie's name. No matter how dark, no matter how bleak and hopeless things got, Kyrie had always been the shining beacon that could pull him out of the blackness.

As things stood, the girl and her two inmate companions were struggling to keep up with the part devil as he took long, quick strides toward a crudely-built prison facility erected in the middle of the clearing. Well, _'facility'_ was a bit of a stretch; it was more like an elongated wooden shack, U-shaped, with a brick path between the split junction.

Nero was vaguely aware of the girl explaining to the confused men about The Order, and how she, along with a handful of others, were on an undercover mission to overthrow Mundus and his forces. She went on to stress the utmost importance of keeping this information secret, for if word got out, their failure would result in death for all involved. Suffice it to say, the men agreed to keep this information to themselves, until such a time that she deemed it be revealed to the other prisoners.

"What difference does it make, now?" Nero asked her, slowing down enough to allow her to walk by his side.

"It makes all the difference," she countered, giving him a sidelong glance as they continued on. "If all of the quarantined prisoners were human, then it would be a different story; but we have demons mixed in with them. They might be on Mundus' bad side right now, but if they were to discover your true identity, not to mention the identity of every other undercover operative? They might take it upon themselves to inform Mundus in some desperate bid for clemency; the whole thing would literally go to hell."

"You've got a point, there." Nero murmured; he hadn't even considered the fact that Mundus would have demons imprisoned, as well. Out of all of the pits he had seen, this would be the first one to contain non-human prisoners. He would have to tread very carefully, if he wanted this to work to his advantage.

"So, what is your plan? Oh, I'm sorry!" The girl suddenly extended her hand, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. "I haven't introduced myself, yet. I'm Charlotte."

Nero took her hand in one of his claws, shaking it gently.

"It's nice to officially meet you." He replied. "As to my plan…well, I'll need you and your two friends to play along, at least until I've made my sale's pitch. Think you can handle that?"

"Please," Charlotte snorted, eyes flashing with amusement. "Just who do you think you're talking to?"

A grin spread across Nero's face, the part devil letting out a soft chuckle. He was beginning to like this girl.

"Okay, then. Listen up, because I'm only going to explain this once."

* * *

Nero stormed down the brick path, his captives frantically struggling in his grasp, cursing and shouting at the Demon General with such fervor, he had to wonder if perhaps they were enjoying their roles a little _too _much.

Wrenching open the barred door of the quarantined pit, he unceremoniously shoved the three captives inside, hiding a grimace when they nearly bowled over several of the prisoners closest to the entrance. He would have to apologize to Charlotte and the others for that, later.

Stalking into the room, he locked the door behind him, allowing his presence to loom over the prisoners as he drew closer to them. Despite the size of the facility, Nero was surprised to find that there didn't appear to be more than thirty of them, several of which appeared to be children.

As he peered at the mixture of human and demon faces surrounding him, he had to keep himself from faltering in his steps when he saw her.

_Kyrie._

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, relief washing over him when he saw that despite her dishevelled appearance, she was otherwise unscathed. Her golden eyes met his, her chest heaving with shallow, frightened breaths. It took him a few confused seconds to remember that he was in his complete devil form and thus, Kyrie did not recognize him.

Even as he realized this, Kyrie's expression began to change, eyebrows knitting together, lips twisting into an uncertain frown. When her eyes began to light up with recognition, Nero gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head, hoping the other prisoners hadn't noticed.

Kyrie seemed to understand, for she remained silent, and drew closer to the others as though she was more than a little afraid of the General in their midst. A pit formed in his stomach, seeing her like that-but he had no choice; he had to keep his charade going, at least for a little longer. He would make it up to her, somehow.

He continued to pace in silence, taking notice of the cold, sand covered floor, and the sap dripping down the walls; evidently, the pine hadn't had time to dry out, before the prison had been erected. There wasn't much room between the entrance, and the far side of the compound; despite having the freedom to roam between the two sides, the prisoners seemed to favour the side they were currently on. For what reason, he could only begin to guess-but it might have had something to do with the rancid scent of decay and excrement coming from the other side.

Choking back the bile that had begun to burn in his throat, Nero turned to face the groups of prisoners, all of which had made it a point to move as far back from him as possible. Despite their numbers, it was clear they were in no shape to fight someone of his stature and skill.

Glancing over at Charlotte, he took notice of the five others she stood with. Two of them were definitely demons, despite one bearing a striking resemblance to humans, the mottled colours pulsing beneath the skin of his neck and wrists a dead giveaway. The more obvious one bore a long, sharp beak, black feathers covering him from head to toe. The others were certainly human-one female, and two males-all of whom ranged from late adolescent, to perhaps middle-aged, and all of whom looked like they'd seen far better days.

_So, these must be the other spies she's been working with. _Nero mused, recalling what Charlotte had told him as they'd plotted their course of action.

Swivelling back around on his heel, he allowed his gaze to flick over everyone in the room, many of them seeming to shrink under his scrutiny.

"Listen up, all of you." His demonically deepened voice carried throughout the small space, causing the prisoners to cringe further. "Here's the deal; either throw your lot in with me, and help me take Mundus down once and for all when the time is right, or you can die right here and now, by my hand!"

A collective of gasps and murmurs filled the room, one voice rising above the others.

"And just why should we trust you?" Spat the female next to Charlotte, brown eyes flashing. "You're one of Mundus' Generals; how do we know this isn't a trap?"

Whether she was merely acting, or didn't yet know who he was, Nero couldn't be sure. Regardless, he had predicted meeting some sort of resistance, either way.

"You're right, I am one of Mundus' Generals." He folded his arms over his chest, and continued on, raising his voice in order to be heard over the prisoners' muttering. "But I am also an undercover soldier, sent here to put an end to Mundus' reign, once and for all. Join me in my quest to overthrow Mundus, and I promise that you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams. Stand in my way, and I will cut you down where you stand."

A hush fell over the crowd, save for the whispering between Charlotte and her companions. The human woman who had called him out let out a soft gasp, her eyes widening as she stared at Nero, all traces of hostility gone.

"By whom were you sent?" A sweet, all-too-familiar voice rang out, trembling with emotion.

Nero inhaled deeply, before turning to meet Kyrie's gaze.

"You will find out all in good time," He assured her, noting the slight upturn of her lips before he looked around at the others again. "Now, are you with me, or not?"

* * *

It had only taken a matter of moments, before each one of the prisoners-some of them reluctant-agreed to join Nero in his battle against Mundus. Once he had their cooperation, he explained to them that they were to remain in Ferrum Hills to await his signal.

When asked how they were supposed to get there, he let out a dark chuckle.

Since Mundus had ordered the prisoners' be disposed of, he would have no trouble at all leading them through the base under the pretence that he was taking them to the execution block.

After securing each one of them in shackles, all connected to a single chain for him to lead them with, the journey out of the Quarantined sector proved to be a great deal easier than he'd expected. Only two Captains and a Colonel had asked him where he was going, and given the fact that he outranked them, his reply that he was undertaking the execution of the prisoners seemed to more than satisfy their curiosity.

The journey to Ferrum Hills was much shorter than it would have been, courtesy of a portal that Forneus had set up for him. He would have to remember to thank him later; without the appointed 'Maximum Security' warden, his task would have verged on impossible.

Once Charlotte had seen to the others, making sure they were situated deep within the mines of Ferrum Hills, she had discreetly sent Kyrie up to the surface. Nero waited until the songstress passed the first abandoned building, before making his presence known.

He let go of his devil trigger, the receding power leaving him somewhat disoriented as Kyrie turned to face him, a startled expression on her face.

"Nero…" she breathed, her eyes filling up with tears.

Nero nodded, unable to do anything else. His tongue felt too thick to speak, perspiration breaking out on the back of his neck the longer he looked at her. Heart pounding in his chest, he swallowed against the lump in his throat, uncertain as to how she'd react, now that she knew the truth. Kyrie stood frozen for a long moment, before finally closing the distance between them, flinging herself into his arms with a sob.

"I'm so, so sorry I took so long to find you…" Nero's voice broke as he wrapped his arms around her, breathing her scent in.

"Nero, I was so scared…Charlotte told me you were on an important case, that you'd come soon…so much time has passed, I was afraid that…that you…" Kyrie's voice was cut off, as she began to cry in earnest.

Nero held her tighter, tears of his own running down his cheeks, unchecked. He'd been without her for so long, and now…

Now, he had no choice but to leave her, again.

The thought brought him back down to earth with a painful jolt, his chest tightening at the realization that they wouldn't truly be able to reunite just yet. Gently disengaging from her, he ran a thumb beneath her eye, drying her tears.

"Kyrie, listen. My job…it isn't over, yet. I have to go back, continue the mission…" He trailed off as her golden eyes filled with more tears, his breath hitching as he fought to gain control of his own emotions.

"I'm so sorry, baby." He whispered, holding her closely again. "I'm so sorry for everything you've gone through while waiting for me. But I will come back, I promise."

Kyrie looked up at him, the tears replaced by a watery smile. "I know, Nero. I trust you…just please, be careful. Promise me that when this is all over, we can be together again."

"We will be together again, I swear it." He brushed his lips over her forehead, planting a soft kiss just beneath her hairline. They stood together for a moment longer, silence settling over them as they stared at the stars overhead.

When Charlotte returned to the surface to escort Kyrie back down below with the others, Nero watched her departure with more sadness than he'd even experienced when The Order had first come to collect him. As her echoing footfalls faded away, he made his return journey to Mundus' base, his heart heavy the whole way back.

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**Let me know what you think. Critique is welcomed. :)**


	18. Chapter 18: Rebellion

**Hello dear readers! Now that Fanfiction is behaving itself again, I can give you the latest chapter in The Order of Sparda. In this chapter, Nero intensifies his mission of causing dissention in the ranks; I've spent the better majority of three days on this one, and while not the longest amount of time I've spent on a single chapter, my back is telling me differently. O.o**

**Oh, and in the event that any of you were wondering, the names of any demons in Mundus' army come from actual demon lore (though they are based very loosely on said demons...mostly I just take the names and a variation of their physical form).**

**Anyway, I hope you find this enjoyable; I can't help feeling like it's lacking something, so if you notice this too, feel free to let me know. Also, I've gone over this a bunch with proof-reading and editing, but if you find any errors, again; please let me know. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: The Order of Sparda originally comes from the mind of Clairavance, along with the OCs that appeared within the first twelve chapters. Devil May Cry, and its characters belong to Capcom. **

* * *

**Chapter 18: Level 18: Rebellion**

It was the evening following Nero's brief reunion with Kyrie, the part devil making his way toward the only tavern still intact within the Business District. The vast majority of the street was in complete ruins; broken slabs of concrete, long forgotten vehicles, and glass shards littered the once prosperous Terrace.

Having just completed the daily tasks that came with his station as Mundus' General, he was more than eager to undertake his true objective. Streetlights flickered to life as he strode down the broken cobblestone pathway, his ears pricking for any and every sound on the otherwise deserted block.

A stiff breeze ruffled the small tuft of hair that remained while in his devil form, the rest seemingly encased within the scaled helm that was adhered to his head. Though the built-in body armour certainly had its advantages, Nero longed to return to his true form for more than just a few moments. Constantly remaining in this form was beginning to wear on him physically, not to mention the deep-seated itch the scales caused just beneath the surface of his skin.

As he drew nearer to the tavern, his face split into a grin.

"Forneus, it's good to see you." He greeted, gripping the thin, yet muscular forearm of the humanoid demon standing by the tavern door.

Forneus returned the gesture, holding Nero's arm in a vice-like grip, chuckling when the part devil let out a pained gasp. "I was worried you wouldn't show."

His silver eyes danced with amusement as he said this, the pale blue skin of his face relaxing into a genuine smile, revealing pearly white, perfectly sharp fangs. If not for the colour of his skin and his eyes, Forneus could almost pass for human-hell, a male _model_, thanks to his overly perfect, windswept black locks.

"Yeah right," Nero snorted in mock derision, "after the day I've had? There's not a damned force in Hell that could keep me from coming, tonight."

"Don't let Mundus' supporters hear you say that." Forneus scolded him, his tone only half serious.

He draped an arm over Nero's shoulder, gently guiding the part devil into the tavern as the two continued their conversation in hushed tones. The effort was completely unnecessary however, since their voices were easily drowned out by the raucous, drunken laughter of the tavern's patrons.

"I don't think I have anything to worry about," Nero reminded his companion, a small smile on his lips. "Or did Baphomet not tell you?"

"He told me what he could," Forneus murmured, eyes flicking around the dimly lit bar, "though clearly he didn't tell me enough. Not that it's his fault, of course; if he'd stuck around any longer…" He trailed off.

Nero knew perfectly well where this was going; prolonged communication between the two would have been suspicious, given that their stations didn't require that they communicate with one another in the first place.

The duo weaved their way through the throng of demons, most of which were standing about with drinks in hand, bragging to one another about their most recent conquests. Forneus continued to lead the way passed broken and worn tables, the pale blue demon looking down in disgust when he accidentally stepped in a pile of vomit. Nero nearly laughed, but thought better of it when Forneus shot him a rather convincing death glare.

When they finally reached a secluded table in the far corner of the establishment, they pulled up chairs opposite one another, and ordered a round of whiskey from the Succubus barmaid.

As she strode off to get their drinks, Forneus leaned over the table conspiratorially, an expectant look on his face. "So, the prisoners from the Quarantine Sector; I assume you were able to make use of that portal?"

Nero nodded, his fingers idly drumming on the table top as he glanced around, ensuring no one was eavesdropping. Satisfied, he turned his gaze back to Forneus, casually draping an arm over the back of his chair.

"When I first asked you to set it up, even I didn't know what I was going to do with it. At the very least, I figured once the revolt began, we could use it to get the prisoners to safety. But when Mundus ordered me to slaughter the quarantined prisoners? Well, let's just say I saw a greater opportunity, and I took it."

The two drew back from the table as the barmaid returned, placing two glasses and a bottle of whiskey between them. Giving them a demure smile, she flicked her long, violet hair over her shoulder, and returned to the crowd of patrons demanding more drinks. Watching the slow, sensual sway of her hips as she made her way back to the bar, Nero returned to the conversation at hand.

"I can't believe it actually worked," Forneus chuckled, pouring the dark, amber liquid into both glasses, and pushing one toward Nero. "To think you actually managed to persuade them. Our monocle-wearing friend did well, choosing you."

Nero shrugged in nonchalance, warmth blossoming in his cheeks from the praise.

"Well, it's not like I haven't had any help." He took a sip of the whiskey, grimacing slightly at the slow burn as it made its way down his throat. "How are things in the Maximum block, anyway?"

"As good as they're ever going to get," Forneus took a swig of his own drink, smacking his lips loudly in satisfaction, "_they_ are growing restless, you know." He looked pointedly over the rim of his glass at the part devil, one elegant eyebrow arched. Nero didn't require further clarification.

"When you head back, let them know it won't be much longer. I'm here for more than just the whiskey." The part devil downed the rest of his glass, and swiped an arm across his mouth. "You must have guessed that much when you met with me outside."

"Ah, so you're going to do it tonight, after all." Forneus' lips pulled into a devious smirk, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I had a feeling you might. I suppose I should take my leave, while I still can."

"That would probably be wise." Nero remarked dryly, "This is going to get pretty ugly, after all. We can't afford to have you dragged down with me if things go belly up."

Forneus finished the rest of his own drink, and set his empty glass on the table with a slight _thud_. Rising to his feet, he clapped a hand on Nero's shoulder, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips.

"Well, if all goes according to plan, I'll meet up with you again soon." He squeezed Nero's shoulder then, his expression becoming grave. "Be careful, alright?"

Nero reached up and patted his arm in return, giving him his most reassuring smile.

"Hey, don't worry. I've got this covered." Before Forneus could reply further, the part devil gave him a playful shove. "Now, get out of here. _I_ have a job to do."

* * *

Nero waited for several minutes after Forneus left before executing his plan, the part devil pouring another two glasses of whiskey and downing them in succession as he glanced around the bar. Several of the patrons from earlier had left, only to be replaced by others. This didn't surprise him in the slightest, since some of the squadrons were currently at odds with one another, while others were verging on mutinous.

His lips twitched slightly, the part devil lazily drumming his fingers as he pondered over who his targets would be. Between Baphomet, Phenex, and himself, he didn't know which of them had succeeded in sowing the most discord amongst Mundus' soldiers. Hell, it could be any of the other undercover operatives, for all he knew; he was certain Forneus didn't have a hand in it, since he was far too busy propagating his image as the infamous, coldblooded warden of the Maximum Security Pit.

Regardless of which one of them had created the most distrust within the army, the fact remained; they'd done their jobs well.

It was in the midst of these thoughts that Nero's eye fell on Agares, the Captain of Squad One. The pale humanoid with reptilian armour was surrounded by a handful of his men, all of them drinking and yelling at the far end of the bar. Standing only a few feet from them was a small group from Squad Three, though their Captain, Malphas, didn't seem to be present. Continuing his thorough scan of the room, he saw more than a dozen of Squad Seven's low-ranking soldiers, jostling one another in their drunken stupor, their drinks sloshing over the sides of their frosted mugs onto the grimy laminate floor.

Nero wasn't as familiar with the rest of the patrons, though he did recognize a few of them, ranging from simple messengers to the guards that stood sentinel over the twenty-eight pits.

Deciding that the soldiers from Squad Three were his best bet in order to get the ball rolling, he rose from his seat, and sidled up to the bar under the pretence of ordering another drink. His timing couldn't have been more perfect, for right at that moment he caught snippets of their whispered conversation.

"…I'm telling you, this whole conquest is getting out of hand…"

"Quiet, you fool!" Another hissed, Nero taking notice as the demon's gaze flicked over to Agares' group, then back to his companion. "We're already in Lord Mundus' bad books, as it is. Are you trying to bring the rest of the army down on us, too?"

Steeling himself, Nero cleared his throat, and turned around.

"I agree with your friend," He declared, loud enough for every demon in the bar to hear, "Mundus has been sitting at the top of the heap for too long; he's gotten far too comfortable, and has even begun to overstep his bounds. Maybe it's time for us to seek new leadership."

There were several seconds of complete silence, and then the room erupted into complete chaos. Arguments broke out between groups, a select few individuals taking their leave before they got pulled into the mayhem. However, the din of conversation subsided just as quickly as it had started, Agares stepping forward with a sneer in Nero's direction.

"And just who, do you propose, should take his place?" He folded his arms over his broad chest, his upper lip twisting in disdain.

"I will." Nero put as much authority into his voice as he could muster, glaring around the room when some of the soldiers began snickering.

"Oh really," Agares retorted, sharing a chuckle with the soldiers behind him. "Just what makes you think you have what it takes, General? You may be powerful, but Mundus could flatten you without as much as lifting a finger."

Many of the others murmured their agreement at this, though Nero noticed from their expressions that most seemed more afraid than loyal to the Demon King.

_Well, it looks like I'll just have to play that to my advantage, then._

"Let me make this clear," Nero raised his voice, and began pacing around the room, allowing his crimson gaze to sweep over every soldier there, "you have two choices; you either assist me in putting Mundus back in the Underworld where he belongs, or you can die right here. It's your call."

"You really intend on fighting us all?" Agares countered icily, eyes flashing. "Of course, you're welcome to try…" He shifted into a more combat-ready stance, his armour creaking from the muscle flexing beneath.

"We would rather die than betray Mundus!" One of his men stepped forward with a snarl, a string of saliva dripping from the large fangs that protruded over his lip.

Glancing around at the handful of others that roared their agreement, Nero exhaled deeply, allowing his demonic power to ripple off of him in waves. The temperature seemed to drop in the room, many of the soldiers backing away fearfully as they felt the pulsing energy wash over them.

"Don't say I didn't warn you…" He growled. The air around him began to undulate, and with a flash of ethereal blue light, Yamato manifested within his right hand.

Creating a phantom version of his left Devil Bringer, he swung his fist downward, pinning two of Agares' men to the floor with a single hit, the unmistakable crunch of bone sounding throughout the tavern. This seemed to throw the rest of Agares' men into a fury, for the entire squad came at the part devil all at once. Without wasting another moment, he rushed into the crowd of demons, making precise, nimble slashes with Yamato as he went, rendering flesh from bone with each stroke. Armour clattered to the floor, the pools of blood beneath his feet growing with each soldier he struck down.

A brief moment came when everyone stopped, as though unsure of what move to make next, or if they should move, at all. Nero's gaze darted around the bar, the part devil taking a mental note of the thirteen demons he had killed-eight members of Agares' squad, and five from Squad Seven, judging by the murderous glint in Captain Murmur's eye.

Murmur growled menacingly, glaring at Nero with his striking yellow eyes, the only part of him that was visible through the thick, oriental-inspired armour he wore.

Sensing that the battle was about to turn into a full-out brawl, Nero reabsorbed Yamato into his right Devil Bringer, and pulled Red Queen from over his shoulder, spraying the blade with flammable oil as he revved the durandal's handle.

Before he could make use of his weapon, however, the members of Squad Three stepped forward, standing at his side in opposition of the other factions. Slowly their numbers increased, as a mixture of guards, messengers, and maintenance workers joined them. By the time the last soldier joined him, Nero found himself with twenty supports on his side, whereas Agares and Murmur only had about twelve or thirteen, combined. All the others fled, clearly wanting no part in the high-stakes pissing contest between the Demon General and the Squad Captains.

A long, tense moment passed, both sides seeming to size the other up. Captain Murmur in particular appeared beyond furious, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits as he panted heavily. Agares, on the other hand, radiated a deadly calm, his expression almost stony in comparison.

Nero's skin prickled in anticipation, waiting for the moment that the Captains would command their men to attack, the moment when his blade would meet one of theirs…

The moment never came.

Instead, Murmur relaxed his stance, Agares and the rest of the soldiers following suit.

"This isn't over yet, traitor." Murmur spat, voice low and threatening. "The next time we meet, it will be on the field of battle!"

Without another word, he stalked out of the bar, his armour rattling with each step. Agares shot Nero one last withering glare, before he too, followed Murmur out of the tavern, their forces trailing warily behind them with surreptitious glances over their shoulders at their former compatriots.

Watching their retreating backs, Nero's mouth turned up into a smile.

"I'm counting on it."

* * *

**Well, what did you think of it? Please review, and as always, critique is welcomed. **


	19. Chapter 19: Slam-Dunk

**Hello everybody, and welcome back to another chapter of "The Order of Sparda". In this chapter, we really start to get into the heart of things; I'll admit this chapter posed something of a challenge for me, so I hope I managed to do well. As always, please read and review. :)**

**Disclaimer: Devil May Cry belongs to Capcom; all other characters are OCs of Clairavance's, or demons based loosely on actual demon lore. **

* * *

**Chapter 19: Level 19: Slam-Dunk**

Night gave way to morning, the last inky tendrils of darkness fading from the sky as the sun rose above the eastern hills. A light rain fell across the landscape, the cool breeze mingling with the sweet floral scent of the Mitis Forest a few miles from Mundus' base.

Once he had made sure he could trust them, Nero had ordered his supporters to return to their stations, encouraging them to remain on standby until the rebellion against Mundus was officially launched. As they set out to do as instructed, the part devil decided now was the time to report to the Demon King. Given the fact that Agares and the others had about an hour's head start, it was particularly fortunate that Forneus had provided him with a shortcut to Mundus' palace; it would take the others much longer to report in, thanks to the protocol and channels of communication they'd have to endure before actually _getting_ an audience with the Demon King.

_Being a General definitely has its perks._

Nero couldn't contain the sly grin that stretched across his face as he strode down the long corridor, the thudding of his boots muffled by the lush maroon carpet that stretched from one wall to the other. Reaching the large black doors that led into Mundus' throne room, he gave three sharp knocks, and entered.

Casting a surreptitious glance around the room to see if any of the enemies he'd made at the tavern had gotten there before him, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw that none were present; only a handful of guards, along with the Demon King himself, occupied the vast throne room. The guards stood sentry against the far walls, their lines only broken by the thick, intricately carved support columns between them, leading up to the throne.

Mundus' expression remained impassive as Nero made his way into the chamber, crimson irises glinting from beneath heavy lids as the General dropped down to one knee before him.

"What news do you bring me, General?" Mundus asked, silently gesturing with a wave of his hand for Nero to rise.

"There have been whispers amongst the soldiers," Nero stated briskly, "it seems some of them are planning mutiny against you, Milord."

He inwardly cringed as the word 'Milord' left his mouth; the only superior he'd ever truly answered to had been Credo, and he had certainly never showed _him_ the level of respect that he found himself forced to while upholding his role as Mundus' General.

_The sooner Sparda and his forces get here, the better. _He thought bitterly, acutely aware of the shift in the Demon King's mood upon hearing his report.

Despite maintaining his languid appearance, casually lounging back in his throne with his chin propped in the palm of his hand, Mundus' eyes glittered dangerously, his mouth set into a grim line.

After a painstaking moment, in which Nero found himself anxiously shifting from one foot to the other, Mundus spoke.

"Do you know who the guilty parties are, General?"

"Yes sir. I happened to overhear them in the tavern."

"Good," Mundus declared, the intensity of his stare sending a chill down Nero's spine, "then I trust you don't need me to tell you what to do."

"No, Milord." The part devil replied, saluting. "I'll have them brought in for questioning right away."

As he made his way out of the throne room, it was all Nero could do to curb his enthusiasm. Finally, after weeks upon _weeks_ of infiltrating the system, gaining the trust of the vast majority of the soldiers while using the power of suggestion on others, he was making some _actual _progress!

Exiting the palace through the West Wing corridor, he sauntered down the rain-slickened terrain leading to Squad Five's barracks. With Squad Four performing raids, and Squad Six currently being out on combat maneuvers, the fifth squadron was the only one available under his command.

Leaping up the rickety steps that led to the cabin's entrance, he pulled the door open, and stepped inside the dark, dusty room. Each one of the soldiers immediately dropped what they were doing, and scrambled to attention.

"Captain Vassago!" He hollered, searching through the many assembled faces before him. His gaze drifted passed the dozens of bunks and over the weapons' table, finally coming to rest on a group of demons to his left as they moved apart.

A humanoid demon made his way forward through the crowd, his effervescent skin turning from black to red, red to purple, then back again. Running his fingers through wheat-coloured hair, all three of his crimson eyes met Nero's in eager anticipation.

"General, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?" The Captain asked, his voice a soft timber.

"Ready eighteen of your best men, Captain; send the rest to escort Agares, and-let's say _ten_ of his men-to Lord Mundus." Nero instructed, allowing himself a predatory grin for effect. "It looks like we have some traitors to apprehend."

* * *

"What is the meaning of this, Captain Vassago?!"

"We would never betray Lord Mundus! How dare you accuse us of treason?"

"Sir, there must be some mistake-"

Nero leaned against the outer wall of Squad Seven's barracks, his lip curling as he listened to the commotion inside. He had sent Captain Vassago and his soldiers in his place, knowing that he would have been attacked, if he had been the one to enter.

"There is _no_ mistake." He heard Vassago declare bluntly, "You are to be taken to Lord Mundus for questioning. If you refuse to cooperate, we have permission to use force."

The telltale sounds of a scuffle ensued; several heavy thumps, followed by an angry shout, then an ear-splitting crash. This would have concerned Nero, if not for the fact that his men outnumbered the members he was taking in for questioning. He had opted to apprehend nine of the remaining soldiers of Captain Murmur's squad from the night before; this was due in part to the fact that even he didn't have the manpower to bring all of Mundus' supporters in. The other reason revolved around using those he had deemed as 'traitors' as a warning to all others; they either swore their allegiance to him, or they could get the hell out of his way. Those who were unwilling to follow these simple rules would suffer the consequences at his hands-or by Mundus', at any rate.

Running a clawed hand over his face, Nero let out a weary sigh; he had spent so much time in his undercover role, there were times he wondered if he was becoming the very General he portrayed. Sure, he had spent many a-time with his heart thudding against his ribs in a mad bid for freedom, sweat beading on the back of his neck as a voice screamed in his head, _'What the hell am I doing?!',_ certain that at any moment he'd be caught…

…But with each passing day, he had become more confident in his mission, less afraid of the consequences-and more like the very demons he hated.

His musings were interrupted, as the door to the seventh squadron's barracks opened with a high-pitched _creak_. Captain Vassago stepped out, leading the handful of Squad Seven members down the barracks' steps with his rapier in hand.

Two of his men stood on either side of each captive, hands hovering above their weapons in case any of them attempted to make a break for it. Not that it would do them much good of course, if they had; Vassago had done just as Nero had instructed, binding their wrists behind their back and blindfolding them.

As the last one made it down the steps, Nero cast a cursory glance toward the barracks' entrance; the rest of Squad Seven framed the doorway, whispering amongst themselves when they caught sight of the General.

Perfect.

This was specifically why he had deigned to come along in the first place; he was counting on the rest of Squad Seven to spread the word of his swift retribution, should they dare to stand in his way. Of course, Nero knew this was a double-edged sword; while this could certainly work in his favour, it also had the potential to backfire. If he wasn't careful, he could find himself next on the chopping block.

_But, what's life without a little risk?_

"Well done, Captain." He stepped forward, briefly examining the captured soldiers before turning back to Vassago. "Please escort these men to Lord Mundus; I'll be along once I check the status of Agares and his men."

"As you wish, General."

Satisfied as Vassago and his men began the long march to Mundus' palace, Nero cast one last look at the soldiers still huddling in the barracks. When none made to move toward him, he snorted softly, and with quick, steady strides, made his way toward Squad One's barracks, located deep within the heart of the Mitis Forest.

* * *

A cacophony of voices raised in protest, the owners of the voices turning their burning glares upon the General standing between them and the Demon King.

Mundus observed all of this in contemplative silence, watching as the General snarled at those who would dare to accuse him of deception.

"Milord, you must believe us!"

"We would never betray you!"

"It's the General, sir! He's the one who plots against you!"

As the soldier who shouted this stepped forward, Nero pulled his sword from his back and pressed the tip against the demon's chest in one quick, smooth motion.

"Stand back, you traitorous bastard," He growled menacingly, "how dare you continue to lie to our King?"

In that split second, over half of the soldiers charged the General, roaring in outrage as they closed in around him. Mundus leaned forward, both elbows propped on his thighs as he looked on the melee with interest.

With a calm, cool reserve that struck the Demon King as familiar, Nero met each opponent head on, his blade enveloped in flames as he sliced through three of the soldiers at once. Without breaking stride, he swung around, slamming one of his giant, ghostly fists into four more, leaving a crater in the wall opposite from where the soldiers had impacted.

"Is that all you've got? I gotta say, I'm very disappointed right now." He scoffed, the grip on his sword slackening as he circled the crowd of soldiers. Mundus just managed to catch the look of scorn on his face before he turned, leaving the Demon King to stare at his back once again. When he spun back around a moment later, the expression was gone, replaced by a hardened glare.

When no one responded, Nero continued. "You can either die by my hand, or by that of our King." He growled, crimson eyes flashing. "The point is, you're not getting out of this alive; unless…well, you know…"

At these last words, his lips twisted into a smirk, his stance relaxing into one of mock playfulness. At first, it looked as though none of the soldiers knew quite what to make of his statement; nearly every one of them had stilled, growls rumbling in their chests as they exchanged conspiratorial glances with one another.

Mundus found this intriguing; he was uncertain as to what Nero had meant, but given the circumstances, the exchange between the soldiers was of far greater import to him. Leaning back in his throne, he silently watched the events that continued to unfold before him.

Captain Agares was the first to break the silence, the plates of his scaled armour chinking as he took three cautious steps forward. Raising his chin defiantly, he stared the General in the eye, and with his teeth bared, hissed, "Never!"

Just as Nero began revving his sword for another attack, Mundus rose to his feet, his piercing gaze alone causing the rest of the soldiers to draw back in silent dread.

"Enough!" He rumbled, arms held aloft, commanding silence.

His gaze swept over the soldiers, his chest swelling in satisfaction upon seeing their wide-eyed stares, their mouths grotesquely twisted in terror. The General was the only one who appeared unperturbed, the relaxed set of his back as he rested his sword over one shoulder seeming to radiate confidence.

Mundus frowned. Something about this vexed the Demon King, but for the life of him, he couldn't quite figure out _why_. The only certainty he had was that something was very familiar about the aura surrounding Nero. What that something was, he couldn't even begin to guess.

Dismissing these thoughts, he returned his attention to the accused soldiers, relishing in the fright that seemed to pour off of them in waves. Long since had he suspected the existence of traitors within his vast army, and now it seemed his suspicions had been confirmed.

"What our esteemed General says is true," Mundus' voice echoed eerily throughout the room, the Demon King taking notice as several of the surviving soldiers visibly shuddered, "if you cannot prove your undying loyalty to me, then I have no further need of you."

Raising his hand, he snapped his fingers, instantly vapourizing the corpses of the demons Nero had slain. Pausing for effect, he let his gaze drift over the accused, giving them adequate time to contemplate their own fates.

Agares stumbled forward then, the Captain shaking so violently that his knees gave way beneath him. He licked his lips repeatedly, his yellow eyes locking with Mundus'.

Silent. Pleading.

Without a second thought, the Demon King snapped his fingers once again, instantly denying Agares the mercy he'd been seeking by reducing him to a smouldering pile of ash. Agares' men, who had been standing no more than a few feet from their Captain before his demise, drew back with cries of fright, some even shaking their heads in quiet desolation before sharing in his misfortune.

It wasn't long before the members of Squad Seven, covered in the blood and guts of their brothers, turned imploring eyes upon the Demon King, dropping to their knees in submission, wailing in despair.

Casting a glance in Nero's direction, Mundus couldn't help but be impressed with the General; not only by the sheer amount of loyalty and devotion he displayed, but by his absolute resolve in the whole matter. Here he was, standing amidst a group of traitors, watching the Demon King pick them off one by one, and he didn't even bat an eye.

_I doubt that he isn't afraid in the slightest, _Mundus mused, taking stock of the General's somewhat rigid stance. _Even still, he is everything my army seems to lack-skill, intelligence, courage..._

Once again, he couldn't help feeling uneasy; while he found these qualities refreshing in comparison to the legions of demons that often cowered before him, he couldn't quell the sense that he had been down this particular road, before.

It seemed Nero could feel himself being studied, for the General glanced up suddenly, his inquiring gaze meeting Mundus' scrutiny.

"Is there something wrong, Milord?" He asked, gaze flicking over to the remaining soldiers and back again. "Surely you don't need to spend any more of your valuable time on these wasted piles of flesh. Shall I dispose of them for you, sir?"

At this, Mundus began to laugh. Of his three Generals-of his entire army, in fact-Nero certainly was the most refreshing of all. If any of the others had made such an offer, it would have been entirely sycophantic, and would have irritated the Demon King greatly. But coming from the effervescent, blue and red armoured devil before him?

He had to give him this-the young devil certainly had pluck!

Shaking his head in wry amusement, he returned his three-eyed gaze to the Squad Seven soldiers still cowering on the granite floor before him. If they had considered trying to escape, they were either too frightened to do so, or intelligent enough to realize that his guards wouldn't let them take five steps before cutting them down.

Raising his hand with his fingers extended, he let out a soft chuckle.

"While your zeal is admirable, it won't be necessary, General." Reddish-white sparks danced across his fingertips, and began arcing over the palm of his hand. "These men have betrayed me, and it is to me that they will answer…"

With that, he opened his hand wide, releasing the energy all at once. The soldiers watched in horror as the crackling red beam drew nearer to them, their screams drowned out by the concussive force that followed.

There was a blinding flash, the room plunging into complete darkness until the torches lining the walls flickered to life once again. Satisfied, Mundus settled back into his throne, his lips pulling into a contented smile.

Where Squad Seven's soldiers had been seconds ago, an enormous scorch mark had taken their place.

Peering down at Nero, he was surprised to see that the General still hadn't moved from his spot.

"You have done well, General." He declared, lounging back in his throne. "You are dismissed for now; you will be summoned when I have need of you again."

Nero appeared to snap out of whatever stupor he was in, the General sharply bringing his heels together and saluting with his right claw.

"As you wish, Milord."

As he marched out of the throne room, Mundus became more certain that there was something oddly familiar about the young demon General.

Only time would tell just what that _'something'_ was…

* * *

**Another chapter, completed. Hopefully it's satisfactory; I tell ya, I've been running circles in my head with these last couple of chapters. ^^; Let me know what you think, and of course, concrit is welcome and appreciated.**


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